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For by superior energies more strict affiance in each other faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.
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
Weak
Earned
Principles
Strict
Fairly
Faith
Superior
Energy
Superiors
Unhallowed
Good
Firm
Vacillating
Defeat
Inconsistent
Victory
Energies
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Death is the quiet haven of us all.
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As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.
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Delivered from the galling yoke of time.
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O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive!
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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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Stop thinking for once in your life!
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What is good for a bootless bene? With these dark words begins my tale And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
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For mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
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Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
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Milton, thou should'st be living at this hour.
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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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This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
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A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
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A light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove.
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The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
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Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!
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The human mind is capable of excitement without the application of gross and violent stimulants and he must have a very faint perception of its beauty and dignity who does not know this.
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The world is too much with us late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.
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These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
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Dreams, books, are each a world.
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