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The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.
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
Heart
Dust
Good
Hearts
Summer
Whose
Dies
Death
Socket
Firsts
Dry
First
Burn
More quotes by William Wordsworth
The world is too much with us late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.
William Wordsworth
Babylon, Learned and wise, hath perished utterly, Nor leaves her speech one word to aid the sigh That would lament her.
William Wordsworth
And mighty poets in their misery dead.
William Wordsworth
Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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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!
William Wordsworth
For by superior energies more strict affiance in each other faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.
William Wordsworth
As in the eye of Nature he has lived, So in the eye of Nature let him die!
William Wordsworth
The light that never was, on sea or land The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
William Wordsworth
I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven Was blowing on my body, felt within A correspondent breeze, that gently moved With quickening virtue, but is now become A tempest, a redundant energy, Vexing its own creation.
William Wordsworth
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
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A power is passing from the earth.
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We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
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He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
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Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snow-drop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
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But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things.
William Wordsworth
To character and success, two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together... humble dependence on God and manly reliance on self.
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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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A brotherhood of venerable trees.
William Wordsworth
Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!
William Wordsworth
That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.
William Wordsworth
