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The vision and the faculty divine Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.

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
Divinity
Faculty
Accomplishment
Wanting
Divine
Vision
Verse
Verses

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
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'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
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Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
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Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose type of things through all degrees.
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Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
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Miss not the occasion by the forelock take that subtle power, the never-halting time.
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Alas! how little can a moment show Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays: A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!
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The moving accident is not my trade To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
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Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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His love was like the liberal air, embracing all, to cheer and bless.
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And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
William Wordsworth
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Up! up! my friend, and quit your books, Or surely you 'll grow double! Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks! Why all this toil and trouble?
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Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
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O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.
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Science appears but what in truth she is, Not as our glory and our absolute boast, But as a succedaneum, and a prop To our infirmity.
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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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A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
William Wordsworth
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It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea: Listen! the mighty being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thundereverlastingly.
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And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.
William Wordsworth