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Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge - it is as immortal as the heart of man.
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
Poetry
Knowledge
Lasts
Last
Firsts
First
Heart
Men
Immortal
More quotes by William Wordsworth
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
William Wordsworth
But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
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Laying out grounds may be considered a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.
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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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The vision and the faculty divine Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
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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.
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And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.
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Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.
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Truths that wake To perish never
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Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains and of all that we behold from this green earth.
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As in the eye of Nature he has lived, So in the eye of Nature let him die!
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The moving accident is not my trade To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
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Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet
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The wealthiest man among us is the best
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
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in the mind of man, A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things.
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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
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