word/media/image1.gifI Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud

　 That floats on high o'er vales and hills，

　　When all at once I saw a crowd，

　　A host， of golden daffodils，

　　Beside the lake， beneath the trees，

　　Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

　　Continuous as the stars that shine

　　And twinkle on the milky way，

　　They stretch'd in never-ending line

　　Along the margin of a bay：

　　Ten thousand saw I at a glance

　　Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

　　The waves beside them danced， but they

　　Out-did the sparkling waves in glee：——

　　A Poet could not but be gay

　　In such a jocund company！

　　I gazed——and gazed——but little thought

　　What wealth the show to me had brought；

　　For oft， when on my couch I lie

　　In vacant or in pensive mood，

　　They flash upon that inward eye

　　Which is the bliss of solitude；

　　And then my heart with pleasure fills

　　And dances with the daffodils.

margin n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘

sprightly adj.愉快的，活泼的

jocund adj.快乐的，高兴的

pensive a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的

bliss n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福

A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal

A slumber did my spirit seal1;

I had no human fears:

She seemed a thing that could not feel

The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;

She neither hears nor sees;

Rolled round in earth’s diurnal course

With rocks, and stones, and trees.

My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man;

I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

word/media/image2.gifThe World Is Too Much With Us

The world is too much with us; late and soon,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:

Little we see in Nature that is ours;

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;

The winds that will be howling at all hours,

And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;

For this, for everything, we are out of tune;

It moves us not.—Great God! I'd rather be

A Pagan, suckled in a creed outworn;

So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,

Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;

Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;

Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn

Composed Upon Westminster Bridge

---September 3, 1802

Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty:

This City now doth, like a garment, wear

The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,

Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie

Open unto the fields, and to the sky;

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Never did sun more beautifully steep

In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

The river glideth at his own sweet will:

Dear God! The very houses seem asleep;

And all that mighty heart is lying still!

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