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Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.

William Wordsworth

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William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Nature
Heart
Never
Love
Eco
Betrayed
Betrayal
Betray
Loved

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Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.
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Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
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Poetry is most just to its divine origin, when it administers the comforts and breathes the thoughts of religion.
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Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
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Be mild, and cleave to gentle things, thy glory and thy happiness be there.
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How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
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Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
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...one interior life in which all beings live with God, themselves are God, existing in the mighty whole, indistinguishable as the cloudless east is from the cloudless west, when all the hemisphere is one cerulean blue.
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Those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised
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Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.
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We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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The monumental pomp of age Was with this goodly personage A stature undepressed in size, Unbent, which rather seemed to rise In open victory o'er the weight Of seventy years, to loftier height.
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But who shall parcel out His intellect by geometric rules, Split like a province into round and square?
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How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
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Two voices are there one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
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Rapt into still communion that transcends The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, His mind was a thanksgiving to the power That made him it was blessedness and love!
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For mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
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Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
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Huge and mighty forms that do not live like living men, moved slowly through the mind by day and were trouble to my dreams.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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