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Laying out grounds may be considered a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.
William Wordsworth
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William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
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Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
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Poetry
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Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.
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There is creation in the eye.
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The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
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Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science
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I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.
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The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.
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The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
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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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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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The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, An appetite a feeling and a love that had no need of a remoter charm by thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
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The child shall become father to the man.
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The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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the Mind of Man-- My haunt, and the main region of my song.
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Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.
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He loves not well whose love is bold! I would not have thee come too nigh. The sun's gold would not seem pure gold Unless the sun were in the sky: To take him thence and chain him near Would make his beauty disappear. William Winter, Love's Queen. The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
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Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry and these we adore Plain living and high thinking are no more.
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Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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