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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.
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
Life
Settings
Forgetfulness
Setting
Incarnation
Star
Afterlife
Birth
Reincarnation
Sleep
Forgetting
Stars
Rises
Cometh
Forget
Hath
Eulogy
Soul
Elsewhere
Afar
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
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The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
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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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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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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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The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.
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He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
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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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Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.
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Knowing that Nature never did betray the heart that loved her 'tis her privilege, through all the years of this our life, to lead from joy to joy.
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A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.
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And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.
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The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
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Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
William Wordsworth
Nature's old felicities.
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Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
William Wordsworth
A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
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What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.
William Wordsworth
