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What know we of the Blest above but that they sing, and that they love?

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
Love
Blest
Sing

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Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.
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Action is transitory, a step, a blow, The motion of a muscle, this way or that, 'Tis done--And in the after-vacancy, We wonder at ourselves, like men betrayed.
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The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away than what it leaves behind.
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Bright was the summer's noon when quickening steps Followed each other till a dreary moor Was crossed, a bare ridge clomb, upon whose top Standing alone, as from a rampart's edge, I overlooked the bed of Windermere, Like a vast river, stretching in the sun.
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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
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one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
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Since thy return, through days and weeks Of hope that grew by stealth, How many wan and faded cheeks Have kindled into health! The Old, by thee revived, have said, 'Another year is ours' And wayworn Wanderers, poorly fed, Have smiled upon thy flowers.
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Plain living and high thinking are no more.
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Behold the Child among his new-born blisses A six years' Darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art.
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Me this uncharted freedom tires I feel the weight of chance desires, My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
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And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.
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How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
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Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.
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I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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Brothers all In honour, as in one community, Scholars and gentlemen.
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Truths that wake To perish never
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Milton, thou should'st be living at this hour.
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Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.
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And suddenly all your troubles melt away, all your worries are gone, and it is for no reason other than the look in your partner's eyes. Yes, sometimes life and love really is that simple.
William Wordsworth
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Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
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