Page 482

William Wordsworth. (1770–1850) (continued)

5069

Mightier far
Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway
Of magic potent over sun and star,
Is Love, though oft to agony distrest,
And though his favorite seat be feeble woman’s breast.

Laodamia.

5070

Elysian beauty, melancholy grace,
Brought from a pensive though a happy place.

Laodamia.

5071

He spake of love, such love as spirits feel
In worlds whose course is equable and pure;
No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,—
The past unsighed for, and the future sure.

Laodamia.

5072

Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there
In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,
An ampler ether, a diviner air,
And fields invested with purpureal gleams.

Laodamia.

5073

Yet tears to human suffering are due;
And mortal hopes defeated and o’erthrown
Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.

Laodamia.

5074

But shapes that come not at an earthly call
Will not depart when mortal voices bid.

Dion.

5075

    But thou that didst appear so fair
  To fond imagination,
Dost rival in the light of day
  Her delicate creation.

Yarrow Visited.

5076

’T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower
Of faith, and round the sufferer’s temples bind
Wreaths that endure affliction’s heaviest shower,
And do not shrink from sorrow’s keenest wind.

Weak is the Will of Man.

5077

We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud
And magnify thy name Almighty God!
But man is thy most awful instrument
In working out a pure intent.

Ode. Imagination before Content.

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