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One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.

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
Grave
Graves
Upon
Mother
Would
Peep
Motherhood

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill The Ploughboy is whooping — anon — anon! There's joy in the mountains: There's life in the fountains Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing The rain is over and gone.
William Wordsworth
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For nature then to me was all in all.
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To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
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Laying out grounds... may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.... it is to assist Nature in moving the affections... the affections of those who have the deepest perception of the beauty of Nature.
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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
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Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
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We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
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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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For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.
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But who shall parcel out His intellect by geometric rules, Split like a province into round and square?
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Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!
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Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
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The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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Give all thou canst high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
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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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Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.
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Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
William Wordsworth
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Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
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