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One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.
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
Evil
Wood
Nature
Forests
May
Impulse
Good
Educational
Men
Woods
Tree
Vernal
Teach
Sages
Moral
Sage
More quotes by William Wordsworth
With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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Knowing that Nature never did betray the heart that loved her 'tis her privilege, through all the years of this our life, to lead from joy to joy.
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Primroses, the Spring may love them Summer knows but little of them.
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Knowledge and increase of enduring joy From the great Nature that exists in works Of mighty Poets.
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How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
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Since thy return, through days and weeks Of hope that grew by stealth, How many wan and faded cheeks Have kindled into health! The Old, by thee revived, have said, 'Another year is ours' And wayworn Wanderers, poorly fed, Have smiled upon thy flowers.
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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
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A babe, by intercourse of touch I held mute dialogues with my Mother's heart.
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To be a Prodigal's favourite,-then, worse truth, A Miser's pensioner,-behold our lot!
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Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky - I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie Sleepless.
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In years that bring the philosophic mind.
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But to a higher mark than song can reach, Rose this pure eloquence.
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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
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The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
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Before us lay a painful road, And guidance have I sought in duteous love From Wisdom's heavenly Father. Hence hath flowed Patience, with trust that, whatsoe'er the way Each takes in this high matter, all may move Cheered with the prospect of a brighter day.
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I look for ghosts but none will force Their way to me. 'Tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Between the living and the dead.
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The moving accident is not my trade To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
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Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.
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A brotherhood of venerable trees.
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