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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
Blest
Sing
Love

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none / Look up a second time, and, one by one, / You mark them twinkling out with silvery light, / And wonder how they could elude the sight!
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In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard seat And birds and flowers once more to greet. . . .
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The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose.
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What is good for a bootless bene? With these dark words begins my tale And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
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And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
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Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snow-drop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
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In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't know what he is doing.
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We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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But to a higher mark than song can reach, Rose this pure eloquence.
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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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For nature then to me was all in all.
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Now when the primrose makes a splendid show, And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with one desire Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire, Poor Robin is yet flowerless but how gay With his red stalks upon this sunny day!
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This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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One impulse from a vernal wood
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Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!- The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.
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As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.
William Wordsworth
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There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.
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Love betters what is best
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There is a comfort in the strength of love 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
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