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Miss not the occasion by the forelock take that subtle power, the never-halting time.
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
Miss
Missing
Opportunity
Power
Forelock
Take
Halting
Never
Occasion
Time
Occasions
Subtle
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Meek Walton's heavenly memory.
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Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!
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poetry is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge
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Plain living and high thinking are no more.
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What know we of the Blest above but that they sing, and that they love?
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Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn
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Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!
William Wordsworth
In spite of difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs-in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed, the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time.
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The very flowers are sacred to the poor.
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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A brotherhood of venerable trees.
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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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The light that never was, on sea or land The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
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She gave me eyes, she gave me ears And humble cares, and delicate fears A heart, the fountain of sweet tears And love and thought and joy.
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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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Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
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Delivered from the galling yoke of time.
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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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One impulse from a vernal wood
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Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
William Wordsworth
