A Parsonage In Oxfordshire

Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends,
Is marked by no distinguishable line;
The turf unites, the pathways intertwine;

by William Wordsworth Click to read full poem

Comments about A Parsonage In Oxfordshire

Khairul Ahsan 21 Nov 10:58
'Bright as the glimpses of eternity, To saints accorded in their mortal hour.' - So nicely said!
Mahtab Bangalee 21 Nov 10:18
Their tops, between them comes and goes a sky Bright as the glimpses of eternity, To saints accorded in their mortal hour. //Oxfordshire is a landlocked county in South East England where the Clergy house which brought the bright as the glimpses of eternity to the pure souls to make the saints!
Dr Tony Brahmin 21 Nov 08:13
And while those lofty poplars gently wave Their tops, between them comes and goes a sky Bright as the glimpses of eternity, To saints accorded in their mortal hour. The great Wordsworth
Edward Kofi Louis 21 Nov 12:32
Pathways of the truth! ! ! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
John S 21 Nov 11:13
holy and unhallowed ground unite at no distinguishable line, the turf unites and intertwines. This makes me think Wordsworth was saying the difference between holy beings and mere mortal beings is confounded. They mingle like the sound of many waters or as evening blends with shady night. I am like God and God like me. I am as large as God, He is as small as I. He cannot above me, nor I beneath him be. Maybe, we are all eternal and holy in some way.
Ramesh T A 21 Nov 06:46
Nature Poet's simple but sincerely depicted Oxfordshire is still surpassing sonnets of this kind sure!
Osazee Dankaro 21 Nov 06:27
Waft fragrant greetings to each silent grave; Nice
Kumarmani Mahakul 21 Nov 12:28
Waft fragrant greetings to each silent grave; And while those lofty poplars gently wave...This philosophic poem echoes with much brilliance and we feel the bright glimpse of eternity. An excellent poem is well penned.
* Sunprincess * 15 Mar 2014 07:20
A Parsonage In Oxfordshire Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends, Is marked by no distinguishable line; The turf unites, the pathways intertwine; And, wheresoe'er the stealing footstep tends, Garden, and that domain where kindred, friends, And neighbours rest together, here confound Their several features, mingled like the sound Of many waters, or as evening blends With shady night. Soft airs, from shrub and flower, Waft fragrant greetings to each silent grave; And while those lofty poplars gently wave Their tops, between them comes and goes a sky Bright as the glimpses of eternity, To saints accorded in their mortal hour. .....I can feel the essence of peace coming through in this write...enjoyed..