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A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
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
Life
Soaring
Soar
Muse
Cheerful
Prime
Delight
Spirit
Love
Muses
More quotes by William Wordsworth
To be young was very heaven!
William Wordsworth
Yet sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up, He felt with spirit so profound.
William Wordsworth
Laying out grounds may be considered a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.
William Wordsworth
I'll teach my boy the sweetest things I'll teach him how the owlet sings.
William Wordsworth
Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect
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The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!
William Wordsworth
What know we of the Blest above but that they sing, and that they love?
William Wordsworth
Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
William Wordsworth
All that we behold is full of blessings.
William Wordsworth
The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.
William Wordsworth
Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
William Wordsworth
One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
William Wordsworth
At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
William Wordsworth
The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.
William Wordsworth
Stop thinking for once in your life!
William Wordsworth
Now when the primrose makes a splendid show, And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with one desire Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire, Poor Robin is yet flowerless but how gay With his red stalks upon this sunny day!
William Wordsworth
A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.
William Wordsworth
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.
William Wordsworth
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses A six years' Darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art.
William Wordsworth
And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
William Wordsworth
