OBEY................1 Which they shall long obey; Lines near my House
OBJECT..............2 No object higher than my knee. The Thorn The object of his journey; he replied Old Man Travelling
OBJECTS.............1 All thinking things, all objects of all thought, Tintern Abbey
OBLIVION............1 But if grief, self-consumed, in oblivion would doze, Convict
OBSCURE.............1 Of sullen Light, no obscure trembling hues. Nightingale
OBTRUDE.............1 Better our dying bodies to obtrude, Female Vagrant
OCEAN...............9 Upon a painted Ocean. Ancyent Marinere II Had fix'd her to the ocean: Ancyent Marinere V "What is the Ocean doing? Ancyent Marinere VI "The Ocean hath no blast: Ancyent Marinere VI Which sky and ocean smote: Ancyent Marinere VII The very ocean has its hour of rest, Female Vagrant And on the gliding vessel Heaven and Ocean smiled. Female Vagrant To view the ocean wide and bright, The Thorn And the round ocean, and the living air, Tintern Abbey
OCEAN-FLOOD.........1 All day, my ready tomb the ocean-flood -- Female Vagrant
OF................368 And he stoppeth one of three: Ancyent Marinere I "And I am next of kin; Ancyent Marinere I Out of the Sea came he: Ancyent Marinere I Ne shapes of men ne beasts we ken -- Ancyent Marinere I Like noises of a swound. Ancyent Marinere I Out of the Sea came he; Ancyent Marinere II The silence of the Sea. Ancyent Marinere II Of the Spirit that plagued us so: Ancyent Marinere II From the Land of Mist and Snow. Ancyent Marinere II Instead of the Cross the Albatross Ancyent Marinere II Of mouldy damps and charnel crust Ancyent Marinere III A gust of wind sterte up behind Ancyent Marinere III Thro' the holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth Ancyent Marinere III Thro' the holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth Ancyent Marinere III Like the whiz of my Cross-bow. Ancyent Marinere III Beyond the shadow of the ship Ancyent Marinere IV They mov'd in tracks of shining white; Ancyent Marinere IV Within the shadow of the ship Ancyent Marinere IV Was a flash of golden fire. Ancyent Marinere IV A spring of love gusht from my heart, Ancyent Marinere IV The body of my brother's son Ancyent Marinere V And I quak'd to think of my own voice Ancyent Marinere V A noise like of a hidden brook Ancyent Marinere V In the leafy month of June, Ancyent Marinere V "For that, which comes out of thine eye, doth make Ancyent Marinere V To a man of woman born: Ancyent Marinere V By a man of woman born: Ancyent Marinere V From the land of mist and snow Ancyent Marinere V "In the land of mist and snow, Ancyent Marinere V Of what might else be seen. Ancyent Marinere VI Like a meadow-gale of spring -- Ancyent Marinere VI O dream of joy! is this indeed Ancyent Marinere VI And the shadow of the moon. Ancyent Marinere VI Like as of torches came. Ancyent Marinere VI Eftsones I heard the dash of oars, Ancyent Marinere VI "The skeletons of leaves that lag Ancyent Marinere VII Was telling of the sound. Ancyent Marinere VII "What manner of man art thou? Ancyent Marinere VII Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd Ancyent Marinere VII I have strange power of speech; Ancyent Marinere VII And is of sense forlorn: Ancyent Marinere VII 'Tis strange! He spake of you familiarly Foster-Mother As often as I think of those dear times Foster-Mother On each side of my chair, and make me learn Foster-Mother Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel? Foster-Mother With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool Foster-Mother But knew the names of birds, and mocked their notes, Foster-Mother To get the seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them Foster-Mother With earth and water, on the stumps of trees. Foster-Mother He had unlawful thoughts of many things: Foster-Mother At once, as by the north side of the Chapel Foster-Mother Of all the heretical and lawless talk Foster-Mother And what became of him? Foster-Mother Of golden lands. Leoni's younger brother Foster-Mother In spite of his dissuasion, seized a boat, Foster-Mother And ne'er was heard of more: but 'tis supposed, Foster-Mother Of dissolute tongues, 'gainst jealousy, and hate, Yew-Tree near Esthwaite And with the food of pride sustained his soul Yew-Tree near Esthwaite An emblem of his own unfruitful life: Yew-Tree near Esthwaite Warm from the labours of benevolence, Yew-Tree near Esthwaite Of kindred loveliness: then he would sigh Yew-Tree near Esthwaite Of younger imagination have kept pure, Yew-Tree near Esthwaite The least of nature's works, one who might move Yew-Tree near Esthwaite Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, Yew-Tree near Esthwaite In lowliness of heart. Yew-Tree near Esthwaite No cloud, no relique of the sunken day Nightingale Of sullen Light, no obscure trembling hues. Nightingale You see the glimmer of the stream beneath, Nightingale O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still, Nightingale A pleasure in the dimness of the stars. Nightingale With the remembrance of a grievous wrong, Nightingale Of his own sorrows) he and such as he Nightingale Of shapes and sounds and shifting elements Nightingale Surrendering his whole spirit, of his song Nightingale And of his fame forgetful! So his fame Nightingale Who lose the deep'ning twilights of the spring Nightingale Full of meek sympathy must heave their sighs Nightingale Nature's sweet voices always full of love Nightingale Of all its music! And I know a grove Nightingale Of large extent, hard by a castle huge Nightingale Hath heard a pause of silence: till the Moon Nightingale Who, capable of no articulate sound, Nightingale Image of LEWTI! from my mind Lewti And the shadow of a star Lewti By pendant boughs of tressy yew. -- Lewti Image of LEWTI! from my mind Lewti I saw a cloud of palest hue, Lewti Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty! Lewti To joyless regions of the sky -- Lewti A dying man, for love of thee. Lewti Of lady fair, that died for love: Lewti Supplied, to him were more than mines of gold. Female Vagrant The bending body of my active sire; Female Vagrant My watchful dog, whose starts of furious ire, Female Vagrant The suns of twenty summers danced along, -- Female Vagrant And ill could I the thought of such sad parting brook. Female Vagrant His little range of water was denied; Female Vagrant When we began to tire of childish play Female Vagrant We talked of marriage and our marriage day; Female Vagrant What tears of bitter grief till then unknown! Female Vagrant Beat round, to sweep the streets of want and pain. Female Vagrant Of them that perished in the whirlwind's sweep, Female Vagrant Our hopes such harvest of affliction reap, Female Vagrant That we the mercy of the waves should rue. Female Vagrant Oh! dreadful price of being to resign Female Vagrant Than dog-like, wading at the heels of war, Female Vagrant By the first beams of dawning light impress'd, Female Vagrant The very ocean has its hour of rest, Female Vagrant Remote from man, and storms of mortal care, Female Vagrant And groans, that rage of racking famine spoke, Female Vagrant Yet does that burst of woe congeal my frame, Female Vagrant Some mighty gulph of separation past, Female Vagrant The silent sea. From the sweet thoughts of home, Female Vagrant And oft, robb'd of my perfect mind, I thought Female Vagrant Here watch, of every human friend disowned, Female Vagrant From the cross timber of an out-house hung; Female Vagrant Of hideous sense; I sunk, nor step could crawl, Female Vagrant Was weak, nor of the past had memory. Female Vagrant Of many things which never troubled me; Female Vagrant Of feet still bustling round with busy glee, Female Vagrant Of looks where common kindness had no part, Female Vagrant Of service done with careless cruelty, Female Vagrant Of potters wandering on from door to door: Female Vagrant But life of happier sort to me pourtrayed, Female Vagrant In depth of forest glade, when jocund June Female Vagrant Of moor and mountain, midnight theft to hatch; Female Vagrant Poor Father! gone was every friend of thine. Female Vagrant And kindred of dead husband are at best Female Vagrant I liv'd upon the mercy of the fields, Female Vagrant And oft of cruelty the sky accused; Female Vagrant Foregone the home delight of constant truth, Female Vagrant Of that perpetual weight which on her spirit lay. Female Vagrant Of waistcoats Harry has no lack, Goody Blake And who so stout of limb as he? Goody Blake His voice was like the voice of three. Goody Blake To seek the hedge of Harry Gill. Goody Blake This trespass of old Goody Blake, Goody Blake And once, behind a rick of barley, Goody Blake She's at the hedge of Harry Gill. Goody Blake He stood behind a bush of elder, Goody Blake To God that is the judge of all. Goody Blake "God! who art never out of hearing, Goody Blake Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill. Goody Blake It is the first mild day of March: Lines near my House Which seems a sense of joy to yield Lines near my House My Sister! ('tis a wish of mine) Lines near my House The opening of the year. Lines near my House -- It is the hour of feeling. Lines near my House Than fifty years of reason; Lines near my House The spirit of the season. Lines near my House We'll frame the measure of our souls, Lines near my House In the sweet shire of Cardigan, Simon Lee Of years he has upon his back, Simon Lee And no man was so full of glee; Simon Lee Had heard of Simon Lee; Simon Lee Dwells in the hall of Ivor; Simon Lee Of his right eye, as you may see: Simon Lee Of husbandry or tillage; Simon Lee Old Ruth works out of doors with him, Simon Lee For she, not over stout of limb, Simon Lee Is stouter of the two. Simon Lee Beside their moss-grown hut of clay, Simon Lee A scrap of land they have, but they Simon Lee Are poorest of the poor. Simon Lee This scrap of land he from the heath Simon Lee Few months of life he has in store, Simon Lee About the root of an old tree, Simon Lee A stump of rotten wood. Simon Lee That at the root of the old tree Simon Lee So fast out of his heart, I thought Simon Lee -- I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds Simon Lee Alas! the gratitude of men Simon Lee I have a boy of five years old, Anecdote for Fathers I thought of Kilve's delightful shore, Anecdote for Fathers Of what from thee I learn. Anecdote for Fathers What should it know of death? We Are Seven "And two of us at Conway dwell, We Are Seven "Two of us in the church-yard lie, We Are Seven "Two of us in the church-yard lie, We Are Seven "Till God released her of her pain, We Are Seven What man has made of man. Lines in Early Spring It seem'd a thrill of pleasure. Lines in Early Spring If such be of my creed the plan, Lines in Early Spring What man has made of man? Lines in Early Spring It is a mass of knotted joints, The Thorn And hung with heavy tufts of moss, The Thorn Of water, never dry; The Thorn A beauteous heap, a hill of moss, The Thorn As if by hand of lady fair The Thorn And cups, the darlings of the eye, The Thorn Of olive-green and scarlet bright, The Thorn This heap of earth o'ergrown with moss, The Thorn This pond and beauteous hill of moss, The Thorn And that same pond of which I spoke, The Thorn At all times of the day and night The Thorn I never heard of such as dare The Thorn You something of her tale may trace. The Thorn Whene'er she thought of Stephen Hill. The Thorn Last Christmas when we talked of this, The Thorn For what became of this poor child The Thorn Were voices of the dead: The Thorn Ere I had heard of Martha's name, The Thorn The shelter of the crag to gain, The Thorn Instead of jutting crag, I found The Thorn The waters of the pond to shake, The Thorn "And what's the hill of moss to her? The Thorn Beneath that hill of moss so fair. The Thorn With drops of that poor infant's blood; The Thorn The shadow of a babe you trace, The Thorn But then the beauteous hill of moss The Thorn Beneath that hill of moss so fair. The Thorn With heavy tufts of moss, that strive The Thorn He is the last of all my flock. Last of the Flock Of sheep I number'd a full score, Last of the Flock -- This lusty lamb of all my store Last of the Flock And perish all of poverty. Last of the Flock Hard labour in a time of need! Last of the Flock I of the parish ask'd relief. Last of the Flock To see the end of all my gains, Last of the Flock I thought he knew some ill of me. Last of the Flock And of my fifty, yesterday Last of the Flock It is the last of all my flock." Last of the Flock This is the process of our love and wisdom, Dungeon Seen through the steams and vapour of his dungeon, Dungeon By sights of ever more deformity! Dungeon Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters, Dungeon By the benignant touch of love and beauty. Dungeon I pray thee have no fear of me, Mad Mother But then there came a sight of joy; Mad Mother My little boy of flesh and blood; Mad Mother I know the poisons of the shade, Mad Mother There's scarce a soul that's out of bed; Idiot Boy Bethink you of the time of night; Idiot Boy Bethink you of the time of night; Idiot Boy The like was never heard of yet, Idiot Boy There is no need of boot or spur, Idiot Boy There is no need of whip or wand, Idiot Boy His heart it was so full of glee, Idiot Boy Proud of herself, and proud of him, Idiot Boy Proud of herself, and proud of him, Idiot Boy The silence of her idiot boy, Idiot Boy She watches till he's out of sight, Idiot Boy For of this pony there's rumour, Idiot Boy He never will be out of humour. Idiot Boy Is in the middle of her story, Idiot Boy Of Johnny's wit and Johnny's glory. Idiot Boy Could lend out of that moment's store Idiot Boy Five years of happiness or more, Idiot Boy The clock is on the stroke of twelve, Idiot Boy The clock is on the stroke of one; Idiot Boy Of sad mischances not a few, Idiot Boy She prefaced half a hint of this Idiot Boy "Susan, we must take care of him, Idiot Boy And never will be heard of more. Idiot Boy "Oh saints! what is become of him? Idiot Boy Even he, of cattle the most mild, Idiot Boy "What, woman! should I know of him?" Idiot Boy And she can see a mile of road, Idiot Boy The foot of horse, the voice of man; Idiot Boy The foot of horse, the voice of man; Idiot Boy She thinks no more of deadly sin; Idiot Boy The last of all her thoughts would be, Idiot Boy And like the very soul of evil, Idiot Boy The bane of all that dread the devil. Idiot Boy But half of what to him befel, Idiot Boy Why of your further aid bereave me? Idiot Boy Of moon or stars he takes no heed; Idiot Boy Of such we in romances read, Idiot Boy "Alas! what is become of them? Idiot Boy But, heedless of the following gloom, Near Richmond The image of a poet's heart, Near Richmond But in the milder grief of pity. Near Richmond And pray that never child of Song Near Richmond The dripping of the oar suspended! Near Richmond "Thus for the length of half a day, Expostulation "Which of themselves our minds impress. Expostulation "That we can feed this mind of ours, Expostulation "Of things for ever speaking, Expostulation "That nothing of itself will come, Expostulation There's more of wisdom in it. Tables Turned Come forth into the light of things, Tables Turned She has a world of ready wealth, Tables Turned May teach you more of man; Tables Turned Of moral evil and of good, Tables Turned Of moral evil and of good, Tables Turned Mishapes the beauteous forms of things; Tables Turned Enough of science and of art; Tables Turned Enough of science and of art; Tables Turned That patience now doth seem a thing, of which Old Man Travelling The object of his journey; he replied Old Man Travelling "A last leave of my son, a mariner, Old Man Travelling I should not feel the pain of dying, Forsaken Indian In spite of all my weary pain, Forsaken Indian The glory of evening was spread through the west; Convict -- On the slope of a mountain I stood, Convict While the joy that precedes the calm season of rest Convict In the pain of my spirit I said, Convict That outcast of pity behold. Convict And deep is the sigh of his breath, Convict All soothers of sense their soft virtue shall yield, Convict In the comfortless vault of disease. Convict From the roots of his hair there shall start Convict A thousand sharp punctures of cold-sweating pain, Convict The silence of sorrow it seems to supply, Convict And asks of me why I am here. Convict "My care, if the arm of the mighty were mine, Convict Of five long winters! and again I hear Tintern Abbey Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect Tintern Abbey The landscape with the quiet of the sky. Tintern Abbey These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, Tintern Abbey Of sportive wood run wild; these pastoral farms Tintern Abbey Green to the very door; and wreathes of smoke Tintern Abbey Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, Tintern Abbey Or of some hermit's cave, where by his fire Tintern Abbey These forms of beauty have not been to me, Tintern Abbey Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, Tintern Abbey In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Tintern Abbey Of unremembered pleasure; such, perhaps, Tintern Abbey On that best portion of a good man's life; Tintern Abbey Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, Tintern Abbey Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, Tintern Abbey Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, Tintern Abbey In which the burthen of the mystery, Tintern Abbey Of all this unintelligible world Tintern Abbey Until, the breath of this corporeal frame, Tintern Abbey And even the motion of our human blood Tintern Abbey Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, Tintern Abbey Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, Tintern Abbey We see into the life of things. Tintern Abbey Of joyless day-light; when the fretful stir Tintern Abbey Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Tintern Abbey Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, Tintern Abbey And now, with gleams of half-extinguished though[t,] Tintern Abbey And somewhat of a sad perplexity, Tintern Abbey The picture of the mind revives again: Tintern Abbey Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts Tintern Abbey Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, Tintern Abbey (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, Tintern Abbey That had no need of a remoter charm, Tintern Abbey Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes Tintern Abbey The still, sad music of humanity, Tintern Abbey Not harsh or grating, though of ample power Tintern Abbey Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Tintern Abbey Of something far more deeply interfused, Tintern Abbey Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, Tintern Abbey And the blue sky, and in the mind of man, Tintern Abbey All thinking things, all objects of all thought, Tintern Abbey A lover of the meadows and the woods, Tintern Abbey And mountains; and of all that we behold Tintern Abbey From this green earth; of all the mighty world Tintern Abbey Of eye and ear, both what they half-create, Tintern Abbey In nature and the language of the sense, Tintern Abbey The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, Tintern Abbey The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul Tintern Abbey Of all my moral being. Tintern Abbey Of this fair river; thou, my dearest Friend, Tintern Abbey The language of my former heart, and read Tintern Abbey Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while Tintern Abbey Through all the years of this our life, to lead Tintern Abbey Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Tintern Abbey The dreary intercourse of daily life, Tintern Abbey Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Tintern Abbey Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, Tintern Abbey Of past existence, wilt thou then forget Tintern Abbey That on the banks of this delightful stream Tintern Abbey A worshipper of Nature, hither came, Tintern Abbey Of holier love. Now wilt thou then forget, Tintern Abbey Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, Tintern Abbey
