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What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.

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
Nature
Love
Loved
Teach
Others

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be But she is in her grave, and oh The difference to me!
William Wordsworth
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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.
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Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
William Wordsworth
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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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One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.
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The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, An appetite a feeling and a love that had no need of a remoter charm by thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
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We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
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Oft in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.
William Wordsworth
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
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In heaven above, And earth below, they best can serve true gladness Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.
William Wordsworth
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Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn
William Wordsworth
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One with more of soul in his face than words on his tongue.
William Wordsworth
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A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.
William Wordsworth
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The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.
William Wordsworth
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We murder to dissect.
William Wordsworth
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That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
William Wordsworth
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Rest and be thankful.
William Wordsworth
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Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
William Wordsworth
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I've watched you now a full half-hour Self-poised upon that yellow flower And, little Butterfly! Indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless! - not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again!
William Wordsworth