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For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.

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
Virtues
Faults
Blame
Virtue
Shall
Atone
Youthful
Ripe

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Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
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But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise,O Nature! we are thine.
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Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue.
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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And through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.
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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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With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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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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For nature then to me was all in all.
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With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming commonplace Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace Which love makes for thee!
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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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Wisdom married to immortal verse.
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Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
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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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Yon foaming flood seems motionless as iceIts dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.
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Prompt to move but firm to wait - knowing things rashly sought are rarely found.
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Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
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How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
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I'll teach my boy the sweetest things I'll teach him how the owlet sings.
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