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For oft, when on my couch I lie in vacant or in pensive mood they flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude

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
Upon
Couch
Eye
Couches
Flash
Inward
Bliss
Mood
Pensive
Solitude
Daffodil
Lying
Vacant

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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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Serene will be our days, and bright and happy will our nature be, when love is an unerring light, and joy its own security.
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Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.
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Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster child, her inmate man, Forget the glories he hath known And that imperial palace whence he came.
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Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill The Ploughboy is whooping — anon — anon! There's joy in the mountains: There's life in the fountains Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing The rain is over and gone.
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Yon foaming flood seems motionless as iceIts dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.
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Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
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Truth takes no account of centuries.
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