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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
Knowledge
Lasts
Last
Firsts
First
Heart
Men
Immortal
Poetry

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
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And I am happy when I sing.
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I'm not talking about a show me other walls of this thing button, I mean a stumble button for wallbase.
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But He is risen, a later star of dawn.
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We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love And, even as these are well and wisely fixed, In dignity of being we ascend.
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Whether we be young or old,Our destiny, our being's heart and home,Is with infinitude, and only thereWith hope it is, hope that can never die,Effort and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.
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It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea: Listen! the mighty being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thundereverlastingly.
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The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can.
William Wordsworth
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That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.
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Yet sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up, He felt with spirit so profound.
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
William Wordsworth
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Since thy return, through days and weeks Of hope that grew by stealth, How many wan and faded cheeks Have kindled into health! The Old, by thee revived, have said, 'Another year is ours' And wayworn Wanderers, poorly fed, Have smiled upon thy flowers.
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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
William Wordsworth
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She gave me eyes, she gave me ears And humble cares, and delicate fears A heart, the fountain of sweet tears And love and thought and joy.
William Wordsworth
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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.
William Wordsworth
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Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep/ Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind.
William Wordsworth
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I'll teach my boy the sweetest things I'll teach him how the owlet sings.
William Wordsworth
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Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet
William Wordsworth
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How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
William Wordsworth