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She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.

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
Praise
Dwelt
None
Maid
Spring
Maids
Among
Dove
Ways
Sad
Way
Obscurity
Love
Springs
Beside
Untrodden

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Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
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Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
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Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.
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Like an army defeated the snow hath retreated.
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A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.
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A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
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We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.
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Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
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My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
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'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
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Two voices are there one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
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Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source, The rapt one, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth: And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth.
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I listened, motionless and still And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
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Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.
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