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Serene will be our days, and bright and happy will our nature be, when love is an unerring light, and joy its own security.

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
Days
Happy
Nature
Unerring
Light
Serene
Love
Uplifting
Bright
Joy
Security

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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
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Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
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The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives.
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Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
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With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming commonplace Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace Which love makes for thee!
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Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
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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.
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