Quote

This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

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
Cities
Bright
Garment
Open
Theatre
Garments
Beauty
Sky
Doth
Morning
Wear
Bare
Lying
Silent
Towers
Like
Air
Unto
Theatres
Fields
Temples
Domes
City
Ships
Glittering

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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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Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
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Imagination, which in truth Is but another name for absolute power And clearest insight, amplitude of mind, And reason, in her most exalted mood.
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Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
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Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine.
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Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
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The Eagle, he was lord above
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Milton, thou should'st be living at this hour.
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A soul so pitiably forlorn, If such do on this earth abide, May season apathy with scorn, May turn indifference to pride And still be not unblest- compared With him who grovels, self-debarred From all that lies within the scope Of holy faith and christian hope Or, shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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But trailing clouds of glory do we come, From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!.
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Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster child, her inmate man, Forget the glories he hath known And that imperial palace whence he came.
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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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There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.
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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.
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The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
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O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
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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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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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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.
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