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How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
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
Free
Meadows
Doe
Bloom
Littles
Bold
Little
Root
Love
Lovely
Roots
Flower
Meadow
Freedom
Unfold
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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The human mind is capable of excitement without the application of gross and violent stimulants and he must have a very faint perception of its beauty and dignity who does not know this.
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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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A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
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To be young was very heaven!
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If thou art beautiful, and youth and thought endue thee with all truth-be strong--be worthy of the grace of God.
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A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
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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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The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives.
William Wordsworth
Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou soul, that art the eternity of thought, And giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion.
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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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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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The child is father of the man: And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet.
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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Nor less I deem that there are Powers Which of themselves our minds impress That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness
William Wordsworth
To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye.
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Alas! how little can a moment show Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays: A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!
William Wordsworth
[Mathematics] is an independent world created out of pure intelligence.
William Wordsworth
Give all thou canst high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.
William Wordsworth
