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William Wordsworth (Уильям Вордсворт)


Roman Antiquities Discovered at Bishopstone, Herefordshire


WHILE poring antiquarians search the ground
Upturned with curious pains, the bard, a seer,
Takes fire,—the men that have been reappear;
Romans for travel girt, for business gowned;
And some recline on couches, myrtle-crowned,
In festal glee: why not? For fresh and clear,
As if its hues were of the passing year,
Dawns this time-buried pavement. From that mound
Hoards may come forth of Trajans, Maximins,
Shrunk into coins with all their warlike toil;
Or a fierce impress issues with its foil
Of tenderness,—the wolf, whose suckling twins
The unlettered ploughboy pities when he wins
The casual treasure from the furrowed soil.



William Wordsworth's other poems:
  1. Roman Antiquities
  2. Iona
  3. Monument of Mrs. Howard
  4. Filial Piety
  5. Remembrance of Collins


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