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Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
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
Earth
Stray
Find
Claimed
Giving
Gifts
Whoever
Spread
Shall
Pleasure
Happiness
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
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Two voices are there one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
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The human mind is capable of excitement without the application of gross and violent stimulants and he must have a very faint perception of its beauty and dignity who does not know this.
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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Primroses, the Spring may love them Summer knows but little of them.
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In heaven above, And earth below, they best can serve true gladness Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.
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But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for humankind, Is happy as a lover.
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Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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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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Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.
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The child is the father of man.
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Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.
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Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
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The first cuckoo's melancholy cry.
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She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be But she is in her grave, and oh The difference to me!
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One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
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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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When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
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While all the future, for thy purer soul, With sober certainties of love is blest.
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