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Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue.

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
Humans
Humanity
Though
Times
Chasten
Often
Grating
Stills
Subdue
Power
Ample
Still
Harsh
Music
Hearing

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Dreams, books, are each a world and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
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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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I've watched you now a full half-hour Self-poised upon that yellow flower And, little Butterfly! Indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless! - not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again!
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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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To be a Prodigal's favourite,-then, worse truth, A Miser's pensioner,-behold our lot!
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Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
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