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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
Dies
Death
Socket
Firsts
Dry
First
Burn
Heart
Dust
Good
Hearts
Summer
Whose
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.
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A youth to whom was given So much of earth, so much of heaven.
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In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.
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Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster child, her inmate man, Forget the glories he hath known And that imperial palace whence he came.
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Small service is true service, while it lasts.
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Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
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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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Meek Walton's heavenly memory.
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Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
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The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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Imagination, which in truth Is but another name for absolute power And clearest insight, amplitude of mind, And reason, in her most exalted mood.
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And the most difficult of tasks to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
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Knowledge and increase of enduring joy From the great Nature that exists in works Of mighty Poets.
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In years that bring the philosophic mind.
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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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There is a comfort in the strength of love 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
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The wealthiest man among us is the best
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Sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.
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Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
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