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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.

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
Eyes
Eye
Idly
Sound
Stirred
Heart
Childish
Ears
Tears
Days
Heard

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Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science
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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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Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift, That no philosophy can lift.
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The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can.
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For by superior energies more strict affiance in each other faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.
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Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge - it is as immortal as the heart of man.
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Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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I should dread to disfigure the beautiful ideal of the memories of illustrious persons with incongruous features, and to sully the imaginative purity of classical works with gross and trivial recollections.
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The primal duties shine aloft, like stars The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless, Are scattered at the feet of Man, like flowers.
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There is a luxury in self-dispraise And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
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