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Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.

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
Loss
Natural
Pain
May
Sorrow

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Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
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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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Two voices are there one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
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Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
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Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.
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To character and success, two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together... humble dependence on God and manly reliance on self.
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Fair trains of images before me rise, Accompanied by feelings of delight Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed.
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing is solitude
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A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
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One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
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Free as a bird to settle where I will.
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The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
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Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.
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She gave me eyes, she gave me ears And humble cares, and delicate fears A heart, the fountain of sweet tears And love and thought and joy.
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Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light
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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
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'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
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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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Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Their snow-white blossoms on my head, With brightest sunshine round me spread Of spring's unclouded weather, In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard-seat! And birds and flowers once more to greet, My last year's friends together.
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