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Let Nature be your teacher

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
Teacher
Natural
Science
Nature

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Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!
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Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
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May books and nature be their early joy!
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As thou these ashes, little brook, wilt bear Into the Avon, Avon to the tide Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas, Into main ocean they, this deed accursed An emblem yields to friends and enemies How the bold teacher's doctrine, sanctified By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.
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Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet
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Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.
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To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
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The education of circumstances is superior to that of tuition.
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When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my Country--am I to be blamed?
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With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming commonplace Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace Which love makes for thee!
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A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
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A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky - I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie Sleepless.
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Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
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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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Poetry is most just to its divine origin, when it administers the comforts and breathes the thoughts of religion.
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Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
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A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
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Chains tie us down by land and sea And wishes, vain as mine, may be All that is left to comfort thee.
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