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

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Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!
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Often have I sighed to measure By myself a lonely pleasure,- Sighed to think I read a book, Only read, perhaps, by me.
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Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my casement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring. * * * * * Then, little Bird, this boon confer, Come, and my requiem sing, Nor fail to be the harbinger Of everlasting spring.
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Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.
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We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.
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The light that never was, on sea or land The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
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And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy because We have been glad of yore.
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Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
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That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.
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Laying out grounds... may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.... it is to assist Nature in moving the affections... the affections of those who have the deepest perception of the beauty of Nature.
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And what if thou, sweet May, hast known Mishap by worm and blight If expectations newly blown Have perished in thy sight If loves and joys, while up they sprung, Were caught as in a snare Such is the lot of all the young, However bright and fair.
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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.
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But He is risen, a later star of dawn.
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Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there, one of a mighty multitude whose way and motion is a harmony and dance magnificent.
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Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind And worse, against ourselves.
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The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.
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