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The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!

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
Sky
Blue
Felt
Heart
Never
Witchery
Melt
Soft

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Nature's old felicities.
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The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.
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At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
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A brotherhood of venerable trees.
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the Mind of Man-- My haunt, and the main region of my song.
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Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness.
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Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride.
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When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign is solitude.
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A power is passing from the earth.
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To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
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One solace yet remains for us who came Into this world in days when story lacked Severe research, that in our hearts we know How, for exciting youth's heroic flame, Assent is power, belief the soul of fact.
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As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.
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Worse than idle is compassion if it ends in tears and sighs.
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Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.
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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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Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.
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