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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
Children
Piety
Men
Bound
Bounds
Days
Child
Natural
Wish
Father

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A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
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Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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...one interior life in which all beings live with God, themselves are God, existing in the mighty whole, indistinguishable as the cloudless east is from the cloudless west, when all the hemisphere is one cerulean blue.
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Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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Yon foaming flood seems motionless as iceIts dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.
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But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
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If the time should ever come when what is now called Science, thus famliarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the Poet will lend his divine spirit to the aid the transfiguration, and will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of the household of man.
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Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
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A tale in everything.
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my brain Worked with a dim and undetermined sense Of unknown modes of being o'er my thoughts There hung a darkness, call it solitude Or blank desertion.
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A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
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Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.
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And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.
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The sightless Milton, with his hair Around his placid temples curled And Shakespeare at his side,-a freight, If clay could think and mind were weight, For him who bore the world!
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In spite of difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs-in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed, the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time.
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Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry and these we adore Plain living and high thinking are no more.
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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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