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His love was like the liberal air, embracing all, to cheer and bless.

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
Cheer
Bless
Liberal
Air
Love
Like
Embracing

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That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.
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Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect
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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.
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The sightless Milton, with his hair Around his placid temples curled And Shakespeare at his side,-a freight, If clay could think and mind were weight, For him who bore the world!
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The stars of midnight shall be dear To her and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
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A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?
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Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
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The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.
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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about and should the chosen guide Be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way.
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True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
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Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.
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Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.
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Laying out grounds may be considered a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.
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For mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
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Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
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