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I'll teach my boy the sweetest things I'll teach him how the owlet sings.

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
Sweetest
Boys
Teach
Things
Sings

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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.
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Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
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The softest breeze to fairest flowers gives birth: Think not that Prudence dwells in dark abodes, She scans the future with the eye of gods.
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Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
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Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
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I listened, motionless and still And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
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Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.
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A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Fair trains of images before me rise, Accompanied by feelings of delight Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed.
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One impulse from a vernal wood
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Meek Walton's heavenly memory.
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Death is the quiet haven of us all.
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Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!- The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.
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Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snow-drop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
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Poetry has never brought me in enough money to buy shoestrings.
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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
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Those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised
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