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Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.

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
Wisdom
Books
Nature
Woodland
Music
Strife
Book
Dull
Come
Endless
Life
Sweet
Hear

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Far from the world I walk, and from all care.
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The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives.
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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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A Primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him And it was something more.
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Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
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The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift, That no philosophy can lift.
William Wordsworth
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
William Wordsworth
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And when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet whence he blew Soul-animating strains,-alas! too few.
William Wordsworth
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Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.
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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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For by superior energies more strict affiance in each other faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.
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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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Either still I find Some imperfection in the chosen theme, Or see of absolute accomplishment Much wanting, so much wanting, in myself, That I recoil and droop, and seek repose In listlessness from vain perplexity, Unprofitably travelling towards the grave.
William Wordsworth
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I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy, The sleepless soul that perished in his pride Of him who walked in glory and in joy, Following his plough, along the mountain-side. By our own spirits we are deified We Poets in our youth begin in gladness, But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
William Wordsworth
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Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
William Wordsworth
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Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
William Wordsworth
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Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!
William Wordsworth
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I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
William Wordsworth
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Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
William Wordsworth
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There is a comfort in the strength of love 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
William Wordsworth