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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
Baby
Heaven
Lying
Eulogy
Infancy
Lies

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
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To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye.
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Yet sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up, He felt with spirit so profound.
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Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
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Nature's old felicities.
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And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep/ Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind.
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I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven Was blowing on my body, felt within A correspondent breeze, that gently moved With quickening virtue, but is now become A tempest, a redundant energy, Vexing its own creation.
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Books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age more precious far Than that accumulated store of gold And orient gems, which, for a day of need, The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. These hoards of truth you can unlock at will.
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The Eagle, he was lord above
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Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
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To be young was very heaven!
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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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The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.
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Departing summer hath assumed An aspect tenderly illumed, The gentlest look of spring That calls from yonder leafy shade Unfaded, yet prepared to fade, A timely carolling.
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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea: Listen! the mighty being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thundereverlastingly.
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Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
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