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Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect

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
Beauteous
Dissect
Meddling
Intellect
Murder
Forms
Form
Things

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The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.
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Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
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Stern daughter of the voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring and reprove.
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Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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My apprehension comes in crowds, I dread the rustling of the grass, The very shadows of the clouds, Have power to shake me as they pass, I question things and do not find, one that will answer to my mind, And all the world appears unkind.
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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.
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Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.
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And mighty poets in their misery dead.
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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?
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.
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But who shall parcel out His intellect by geometric rules, Split like a province into round and square?
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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
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Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
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And the most difficult of tasks to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
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Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters.
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