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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
May
Sorrow
Loss
Natural
Pain

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Wisdom married to immortal verse.
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[Mathematics] is an independent world created out of pure intelligence.
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Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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Nature's old felicities.
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Faith is a passionate intuition.
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Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
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A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?
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The thought of death sits easy on the man Who has been born and dies among the mountains.
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But He is risen, a later star of dawn.
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The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.
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The light that never was, on sea or land The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
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Rapt into still communion that transcends The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, His mind was a thanksgiving to the power That made him it was blessedness and love!
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He loves not well whose love is bold! I would not have thee come too nigh. The sun's gold would not seem pure gold Unless the sun were in the sky: To take him thence and chain him near Would make his beauty disappear. William Winter, Love's Queen. The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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my brain Worked with a dim and undetermined sense Of unknown modes of being o'er my thoughts There hung a darkness, call it solitude Or blank desertion.
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Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
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