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Heaven lies about us in our infancy.

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
Lying
Eulogy
Infancy
Lies
Baby
Heaven

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The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.
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Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.
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Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
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Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan.
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That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.
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Let the moon shine on the in thy solitary walk and let the misty mountain-winds be free to blow against thee.
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poetry is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge
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The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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In ourselves our safety must be sought. By our own right hand it must be wrought.
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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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Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness.
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The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.
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The stars of midnight shall be dear To her and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
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Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
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Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.
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