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A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?
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
Every
Breath
Life
Breaths
Draws
Child
Simple
Death
Limb
Feels
Lightly
Children
Limbs
More quotes by William Wordsworth
The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
William Wordsworth
When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign is solitude.
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The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society.
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For all things are less dreadful than they seem.
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Stop thinking for once in your life!
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Yon foaming flood seems motionless as iceIts dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.
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Departing summer hath assumed An aspect tenderly illumed, The gentlest look of spring That calls from yonder leafy shade Unfaded, yet prepared to fade, A timely carolling.
William Wordsworth
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
William Wordsworth
We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love And, even as these are well and wisely fixed, In dignity of being we ascend.
William Wordsworth
We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.
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But who shall parcel out His intellect by geometric rules, Split like a province into round and square?
William Wordsworth
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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Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will Dear God! the very houses seem asleep And all that mighty heart is lying still!
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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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She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.
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He loves not well whose love is bold! I would not have thee come too nigh. The sun's gold would not seem pure gold Unless the sun were in the sky: To take him thence and chain him near Would make his beauty disappear. William Winter, Love's Queen. The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
William Wordsworth
Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains and of all that we behold from this green earth.
William Wordsworth
Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness.
William Wordsworth
Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
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