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From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
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
Body
Proceed
Deed
Fears
Forgiveness
Guilty
Deeds
Thoughts
Ghostly
Thousand
Haunting
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Departing summer hath assumed An aspect tenderly illumed, The gentlest look of spring That calls from yonder leafy shade Unfaded, yet prepared to fade, A timely carolling.
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The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
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Two voices are there one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
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While all the future, for thy purer soul, With sober certainties of love is blest.
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Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
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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!
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To character and success, two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together... humble dependence on God and manly reliance on self.
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Primroses, the Spring may love them Summer knows but little of them.
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Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.
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Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind And worse, against ourselves.
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The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive!
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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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Everything is tedious when one does not read with the feeling of the Author.
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Up! up! my friend, and quit your books, Or surely you 'll grow double! Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks! Why all this toil and trouble?
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Wisdom and spirit of the Universe!
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Love betters what is best
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I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led.
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Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my casement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring. * * * * * Then, little Bird, this boon confer, Come, and my requiem sing, Nor fail to be the harbinger Of everlasting spring.
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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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Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
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