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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
Firsts
First
Heart
Men
Immortal
Poetry
Knowledge
Lasts
Last

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
William Wordsworth
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I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.
William Wordsworth
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The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
William Wordsworth
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Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.
William Wordsworth
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Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.
William Wordsworth
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Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.
William Wordsworth
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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.
William Wordsworth
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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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The human mind is capable of excitement without the application of gross and violent stimulants and he must have a very faint perception of its beauty and dignity who does not know this.
William Wordsworth
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For mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
William Wordsworth
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Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
William Wordsworth
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Rest and be thankful.
William Wordsworth
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Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Their snow-white blossoms on my head, With brightest sunshine round me spread Of spring's unclouded weather, In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard-seat! And birds and flowers once more to greet, My last year's friends together.
William Wordsworth
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From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
William Wordsworth
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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
William Wordsworth
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Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
William Wordsworth
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Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.
William Wordsworth
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One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
William Wordsworth
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Men who can hear the Decalogue, and feel To self-reproach.
William Wordsworth
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Minds that have nothing to confer Find little to perceive.
William Wordsworth