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Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will Dear God! the very houses seem asleep And all that mighty heart is lying still!

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
Still
Sweet
Asleep
Heart
Deep
Mighty
Never
Seem
Houses
Lying
River
Felt
Calm
House
Rivers
Stills
Dear
Seems
Saws

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Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill The Ploughboy is whooping — anon — anon! There's joy in the mountains: There's life in the fountains Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing The rain is over and gone.
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I look for ghosts but none will force Their way to me. 'Tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Between the living and the dead.
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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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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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The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
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There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead.
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A brotherhood of venerable trees.
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A power is passing from the earth.
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But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise,O Nature! we are thine.
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Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
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And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy because We have been glad of yore.
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Alas! how little can a moment show Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays: A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!
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To be a Prodigal's favourite,-then, worse truth, A Miser's pensioner,-behold our lot!
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