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poetry is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge

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
Spirit
Impassioned
Finer
Breath
Breaths
Poetry
Knowledge

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
William Wordsworth
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Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
William Wordsworth
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And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy because We have been glad of yore.
William Wordsworth
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Brothers all In honour, as in one community, Scholars and gentlemen.
William Wordsworth
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
William Wordsworth
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How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
William Wordsworth
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Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
William Wordsworth
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Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.
William Wordsworth
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Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
William Wordsworth
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The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.
William Wordsworth
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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
William Wordsworth
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Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
William Wordsworth
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Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
William Wordsworth
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At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
William Wordsworth
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All that we behold is full of blessings.
William Wordsworth
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O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
William Wordsworth
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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things: We murder to dissect.
William Wordsworth
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Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.
William Wordsworth
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Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
William Wordsworth
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To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye.
William Wordsworth