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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
Lying
Vacant
Upon
Couch
Eye
Couches
Flash
Inward
Bliss
Mood
Pensive
Solitude
Daffodil
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The stars of midnight shall be dear To her and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
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To character and success, two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together... humble dependence on God and manly reliance on self.
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Give all thou canst high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.
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The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.
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Where the statue stood Of Newton, with his prism and silent face, The marble index of a mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of thought alone.
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The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!
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The child shall become father to the man.
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing is solitude
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One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
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The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.
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Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains and of all that we behold from this green earth.
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Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride.
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A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
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Books are the best type of the influence of the past.
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Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!
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Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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And I am happy when I sing.
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Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
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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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Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
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