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Small service is true service, while it lasts.

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
Service
Small
Lasts
True

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
William Wordsworth
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Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.
William Wordsworth
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Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!
William Wordsworth
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May books and nature be their early joy!
William Wordsworth
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The sunshine is a glorious birth But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
William Wordsworth
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We murder to dissect.
William Wordsworth
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Dreams, books, are each a world.
William Wordsworth
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I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led.
William Wordsworth
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The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.
William Wordsworth
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The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone
William Wordsworth
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The vision and the faculty divine Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
William Wordsworth
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For nature then to me was all in all.
William Wordsworth
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In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard seat And birds and flowers once more to greet. . . .
William Wordsworth
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There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.
William Wordsworth
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Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.
William Wordsworth
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Nature's old felicities.
William Wordsworth
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Brothers all In honour, as in one community, Scholars and gentlemen.
William Wordsworth
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The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
William Wordsworth
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Give all thou canst high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.
William Wordsworth
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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
William Wordsworth