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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.
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
Child
Natural
Wish
Father
Children
Piety
Men
Bound
Bounds
Days
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The light that never was, on sea or land The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
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Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.
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What are fears but voices airy? Whispering harm where harm is not. And deluding the unwary Till the fatal bolt is shot!
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How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
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Miss not the occasion by the forelock take that subtle power, the never-halting time.
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The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
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Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!
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In ourselves our safety must be sought. By our own right hand it must be wrought.
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I listened, motionless and still And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
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And what if thou, sweet May, hast known Mishap by worm and blight If expectations newly blown Have perished in thy sight If loves and joys, while up they sprung, Were caught as in a snare Such is the lot of all the young, However bright and fair.
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Earth has not anything to show more fair.
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Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
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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
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Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
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Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
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Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
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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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The Eagle, he was lord above
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