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one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.

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
Daffodil
Pleasures
Worth
Thousand
Pleasure
Nature

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The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives.
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A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
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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.
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For all things are less dreadful than they seem.
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Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises.
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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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Earth helped him with the cry of blood.
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone
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What are fears but voices airy? Whispering harm where harm is not. And deluding the unwary Till the fatal bolt is shot!
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poetry is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge
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Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee! . . . . . . Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness.
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As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.
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Knowledge and increase of enduring joy From the great Nature that exists in works Of mighty Poets.
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