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The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose.

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
Appreciation
Lovely
Rose
Flower
Goes
Comes
Rainbow

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There is a comfort in the strength of love 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
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Before us lay a painful road, And guidance have I sought in duteous love From Wisdom's heavenly Father. Hence hath flowed Patience, with trust that, whatsoe'er the way Each takes in this high matter, all may move Cheered with the prospect of a brighter day.
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For oft, when on my couch I lie in vacant or in pensive mood they flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude
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One solace yet remains for us who came Into this world in days when story lacked Severe research, that in our hearts we know How, for exciting youth's heroic flame, Assent is power, belief the soul of fact.
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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
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We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
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But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for humankind, Is happy as a lover.
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Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
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Not Chaos, not the darkest pit of lowest Erebus, nor aught of blinder vacancy, scooped out by help of dreams - can breed such fear and awe as fall upon us often when we look into our Minds, into the Mind of Man.
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Science appears but what in truth she is, Not as our glory and our absolute boast, But as a succedaneum, and a prop To our infirmity.
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That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.
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True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
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And suddenly all your troubles melt away, all your worries are gone, and it is for no reason other than the look in your partner's eyes. Yes, sometimes life and love really is that simple.
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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
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There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.
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