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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
Unerring
Nature
Serene
Light
Uplifting
Love
Bright
Joy
Security
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One impulse from a vernal wood
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Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
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One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
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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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The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away than what it leaves behind.
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Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou soul, that art the eternity of thought, And giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion.
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A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
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May books and nature be their early joy!
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In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.
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Yon foaming flood seems motionless as iceIts dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.
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A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.
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To be a Prodigal's favourite,-then, worse truth, A Miser's pensioner,-behold our lot!
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Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
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One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
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The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.
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By happy chance we saw A twofold image: on a grassy bank A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood Another and the same!
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Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
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What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.
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A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
William Wordsworth
