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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
Music
Autumnal
Faded
Amongst
Winds
Autumn
Wild
Woods
Wind
More quotes by William Wordsworth
The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.
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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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Imagination is the means of deep insight and sympathy, the power to conceive and express images removed from normal objective reality.
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We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
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The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
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A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.
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That blessed mood in which the burthen of the mystery, in which the heavy and the weary weight of all this unintelligible world is lightened.
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We live by admiration, hope and love.
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Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
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Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine.
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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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Whether we be young or old,Our destiny, our being's heart and home,Is with infinitude, and only thereWith hope it is, hope that can never die,Effort and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.
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It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea: Listen! the mighty being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thundereverlastingly.
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I'll teach my boy the sweetest things I'll teach him how the owlet sings.
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Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.
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A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.
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The mysteries that cups of flowers infold And all the gorgeous sights which fairies do behold.
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A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
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... and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
William Wordsworth
