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Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.

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
Poetry
Emotion
Recollected
Tranquillity

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Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
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Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.
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Where the statue stood Of Newton, with his prism and silent face, The marble index of a mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of thought alone.
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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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'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
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Dreams, books, are each a world.
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Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep/ Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind.
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A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
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The vision and the faculty divine Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
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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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Great men have been among us hands that penn'd And tongues that utter'd wisdom--better none
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We live by admiration, hope and love.
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This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
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And when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet whence he blew Soul-animating strains,-alas! too few.
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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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Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!
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My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began So is it now I am a man.
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And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.
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I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy, The sleepless soul that perished in his pride Of him who walked in glory and in joy, Following his plough, along the mountain-side. By our own spirits we are deified We Poets in our youth begin in gladness, But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
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