Quote

Books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age more precious far Than that accumulated store of gold And orient gems, which, for a day of need, The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. These hoards of truth you can unlock at will.

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
Within
Stores
Accumulated
Age
Treasure
Gems
Lying
Silent
Hides
Hoards
Truth
Gold
Tombs
Sultan
Book
Lies
Preserved
Ancestral
Need
Whose
Chamber
Orient
Needs
Deep
Store
Unlock
Books
Precious
Chambers

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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We Poets in our youth begin in gladness But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
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True dignity abides with him alone Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, Can still suspect, and still revere himself, In lowliness of heart.
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Wisdom sits with children round her knees.
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Alas! how little can a moment show Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays: A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!
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A deep distress has humanised my soul.
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A soul so pitiably forlorn, If such do on this earth abide, May season apathy with scorn, May turn indifference to pride And still be not unblest- compared With him who grovels, self-debarred From all that lies within the scope Of holy faith and christian hope Or, shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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The Poet, gentle creature as he is, Hath, like the Lover, his unruly times His fits when he is neither sick nor well, Though no distress be near him but his own Unmanageable thoughts.
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Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue.
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Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
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Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
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But to a higher mark than song can reach, Rose this pure eloquence.
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Me this uncharted freedom tires I feel the weight of chance desires, My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
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Serene will be our days, and bright and happy will our nature be, when love is an unerring light, and joy its own security.
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Love betters what is best
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A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.
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Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.
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Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.
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Wisdom married to immortal verse.
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Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride.
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A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.
William Wordsworth