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Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.

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
Name
Names
Father
Cannot
Give
Holier
Giving
Fatherhood
Daddy
Dad

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Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee! . . . . . . Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness.
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Serene will be our days, and bright and happy will our nature be, when love is an unerring light, and joy its own security.
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Brothers all In honour, as in one community, Scholars and gentlemen.
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The mysteries that cups of flowers infold And all the gorgeous sights which fairies do behold.
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The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.
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We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.
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The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.
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Let Nature be your teacher
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But hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity.
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Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.
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A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
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The child is father of the man: And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.
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in the mind of man, A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things.
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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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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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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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And the most difficult of tasks to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
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Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
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