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He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,- The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
William Wordsworth
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William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
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Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Love
Sure
Fears
World
Future
Heal
Fear
Beat
Away
Beats
Equable
Spirit
Whose
Spake
Past
Pure
Strife
Feel
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Spirits
Feels
Course
Worlds
More quotes by William Wordsworth
A lawyer art thou? Draw not nigh! Go, carry to some fitter place The keenness of that practised eye, The hardness of that sallow face.
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Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
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Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.
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Science appears but what in truth she is, Not as our glory and our absolute boast, But as a succedaneum, and a prop To our infirmity.
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Thought and theory must precede all action, that moves to salutary purposes. Yet action is nobler in itself than either thought or theory.
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The clouds that gather round the setting sun, Do take a sober colouring from an eye, That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.
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Dreams, books, are each a world.
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A Primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him And it was something more.
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Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises.
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The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.
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A power is passing from the earth.
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And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.
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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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My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began So is it now I am a man So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
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To be young was very heaven!
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A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.
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Turning, for them who pass, the common dust Of servile opportunity to gold.
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The vision and the faculty divine Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
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Like an army defeated the snow hath retreated.
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