To ......, In Her Seventieth Year
Such age how beautiful! O Lady bright, Whose mortal lineaments seem all refined By favouring Nature and a saintly Mind To something purer and more exquisite Than flesh and blood; whene'er thou meet'st my sight, When I behold thy blanched unwithered cheek, Thy temples fringed with locks of gleaming white, And head that droops because the soul is meek, Thee with the welcome Snowdrop I compare; That child of winter, prompting thoughts that climb From desolation toward the genial prime; Or with the Moon conquering earth's misty air, And filling more and more with crystal light As pensive Evening deepens into night.
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Such age how beautiful! O Lady bright,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, William Wordsworth delivers a powerful performance in "To ......, In Her Seventieth Year"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...