Love - By William Wordsworth All Thoughts, all Passions, all Delights, Whatever stirs this mortal Frame, All are but Ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the Mount I lay Beside the Ruin'd Tower. The Moonshine stealing o'er the scene Had blended with the Lights of Eve; And she was there, my Hope, my Joy, My own dear Genevieve! She lean'd against the Armed Man, The Statue of the Armed Knight: She stood and listen'd to my Harp Amid ...

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Williams Wordsworth was a British poet. He was born in Cockermouth, Cumberland, in the Lake District and spent most of his lifetime in the Lake District of Northern England only.  He  started the English Romantic movement with Samuel Taylor Coleridge,  with their collection "LYRICAL BALLADS" in 1798. His work as poet mainly based on topics involving the life of children, common people, poor mass, and nature. He used very simple wordings to express his feelings through poems. The beautiful landscape of ...

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A Conversation We talked with open heart, and tongue Affectionate and true, A pair of friends, though I was young, And Matthew seventy-two. We lay beneath a spreading oak, Beside a mossy seat; And from the turf a fountain broke And gurgled at our feet. `Now, Matthew!' said I, `let us match This water's pleasant tune With some old border-song, or catch That suits a summer's noon; `Or of the church-clock and the chimes Sing here beneath the shade That half-mad thing of witty rhymes Which you last April made!' In silence Matthew lay, and eyed The spring ...

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