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Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
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
Woods
Wind
Music
Autumnal
Faded
Amongst
Winds
Autumn
Wild
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Wisdom married to immortal verse.
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Stop thinking for once in your life!
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But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things.
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In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.
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Plain living and high thinking are no more.
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A power is passing from the earth.
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Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
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Now when the primrose makes a splendid show, And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with one desire Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire, Poor Robin is yet flowerless but how gay With his red stalks upon this sunny day!
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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
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The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about and should the chosen guide Be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way.
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Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
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Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!
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In ourselves our safety must be sought. By our own right hand it must be wrought.
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Give all thou canst high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.
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The clouds that gather round the setting sun, Do take a sober colouring from an eye, That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.
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Be mild, and cleave to gentle things, thy glory and thy happiness be there.
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