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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
Days
Child
Natural
Wish
Father
Children
Piety
Men
Bound
Bounds

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The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
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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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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
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I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven Was blowing on my body, felt within A correspondent breeze, that gently moved With quickening virtue, but is now become A tempest, a redundant energy, Vexing its own creation.
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one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
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Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.
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There is a luxury in self-dispraise And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
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Nature's old felicities.
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A tale in everything.
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A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.
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Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
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Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.
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In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
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Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
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Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.
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Alas! how little can a moment show Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays: A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!
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The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.
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He loves not well whose love is bold! I would not have thee come too nigh. The sun's gold would not seem pure gold Unless the sun were in the sky: To take him thence and chain him near Would make his beauty disappear. William Winter, Love's Queen. The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
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