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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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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things: We murder to dissect.
William Wordsworth
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I am already kindly disposed towards you. My friendship it is not in my power to give: this is a gift which no man can make, it is not in our own power: a sound and healthy friendship is the growth of time and circumstance, it will spring up and thrive like a wildflower when these favour, and when they do not, it is in vain to look for it.
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Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
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O dearer far than light and life are dear.
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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
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What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.
William Wordsworth
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And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
William Wordsworth
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Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
William Wordsworth
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Yet tears to human suffering are due And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.
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Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
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Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science
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Bright was the summer's noon when quickening steps Followed each other till a dreary moor Was crossed, a bare ridge clomb, upon whose top Standing alone, as from a rampart's edge, I overlooked the bed of Windermere, Like a vast river, stretching in the sun.
William Wordsworth
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There is creation in the eye.
William Wordsworth
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She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
William Wordsworth
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Death is the quiet haven of us all.
William Wordsworth
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With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.
William Wordsworth
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Milton, thou should'st be living at this hour.
William Wordsworth
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Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
William Wordsworth
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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.
William Wordsworth
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There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.
William Wordsworth