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Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
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
Historical
Dear
Longer
Shall
Upon
History
Credulity
Nature
Bloom
Stock
More quotes by William Wordsworth
On a fair prospect some have looked, And felt, as I have heard them say, As if the moving time had been A thing as steadfast as the scene On which they gazed themselves away.
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If the time should ever come when what is now called Science, thus famliarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the Poet will lend his divine spirit to the aid the transfiguration, and will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of the household of man.
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One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
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Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love And, even as these are well and wisely fixed, In dignity of being we ascend.
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Babylon, Learned and wise, hath perished utterly, Nor leaves her speech one word to aid the sigh That would lament her.
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How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
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Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.
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The vision and the faculty divine Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
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Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
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These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
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As thou these ashes, little brook, wilt bear Into the Avon, Avon to the tide Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas, Into main ocean they, this deed accursed An emblem yields to friends and enemies How the bold teacher's doctrine, sanctified By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.
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Free as a bird to settle where I will.
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But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things.
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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Then blame not those who, by the mightiest lever Known to the moral world, Imagination.
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Poetry is most just to its divine origin, when it administers the comforts and breathes the thoughts of religion.
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What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
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We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
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