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Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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
Pensive
Daffodil
Dances
Vacant
Fills
Gardening
Garden
Pleasure
Daffodils
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A Primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him And it was something more.
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But trailing clouds of glory do we come, From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!.
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A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
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He loves not well whose love is bold! I would not have thee come too nigh. The sun's gold would not seem pure gold Unless the sun were in the sky: To take him thence and chain him near Would make his beauty disappear. William Winter, Love's Queen. The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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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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All that we behold is full of blessings.
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Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
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And the most difficult of tasks to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
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Write to me frequently & the longest letters possible never mind whether you have facts or no to communicate fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
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O dearer far than light and life are dear.
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the Mind of Man-- My haunt, and the main region of my song.
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... and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
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In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't know what he is doing.
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Careless of books, yet having felt the power Of Nature, by the gentle agency Of natural objects, led me on to feel For passions that were not my own, and think (At random and imperfectly indeed) On man, the heart of man, and human life.
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Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.
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'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
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And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.
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Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
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It is the 1st mild day of March. Each minute sweeter than before... there is a blessing in the air.
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