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The child is father of the man.

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
Men
Oxymoron
Tears
Child
Father
Children

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The eye— it cannot choose but see we cannot bid the ear be still our bodies feel, where'er they be, against or with our will.
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The sunshine is a glorious birth But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
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And mighty poets in their misery dead.
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O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
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Be mild, and cleave to gentle things, thy glory and thy happiness be there.
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There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead.
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The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose.
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There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.
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Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!- The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.
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For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.
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When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign is solitude.
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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To be young was very heaven!
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The very flowers are sacred to the poor.
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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things: We murder to dissect.
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A soul so pitiably forlorn, If such do on this earth abide, May season apathy with scorn, May turn indifference to pride And still be not unblest- compared With him who grovels, self-debarred From all that lies within the scope Of holy faith and christian hope Or, shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began So is it now I am a man So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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A brotherhood of venerable trees.
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Chains tie us down by land and sea And wishes, vain as mine, may be All that is left to comfort thee.
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Faith is a passionate intuition.
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