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A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.

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
Famous
English
Ballad
Fame
Robins
Joy
Robin
Men
Ballads
Hood
Singer
Singers

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Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine.
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Monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial.
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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
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Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters.
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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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Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
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Often have I sighed to measure By myself a lonely pleasure,- Sighed to think I read a book, Only read, perhaps, by me.
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Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
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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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A tale in everything.
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Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet
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Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!
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Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
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Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
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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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There is a luxury in self-dispraise And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
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And when the stream Which overflowed the soul was passed away, A consciousness remained that it had left Deposited upon the silent shore Of memory images and precious thoughts That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.
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The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
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