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Dreams, books, are each a world and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.

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
World
Blood
Pastime
Grows
Substantial
Books
Round
Happiness
Rounds
Strong
Flesh
Dream
Dreams
Book
Pure
Good
Grow
Tendrils

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A light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove.
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Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.
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And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.
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Science appears but what in truth she is, Not as our glory and our absolute boast, But as a succedaneum, and a prop To our infirmity.
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Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
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A babe, by intercourse of touch I held mute dialogues with my Mother's heart.
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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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We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love And, even as these are well and wisely fixed, In dignity of being we ascend.
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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Write to me frequently & the longest letters possible never mind whether you have facts or no to communicate fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
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Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither.
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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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No motion has she now, no force she neither hears nor sees rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones, and trees.
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For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.
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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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Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
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