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Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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
Heads
Ten
Dance
Sprightly
Flower
Daffodil
Saws
Tossing
Thousand
Glance
Glances
Ballet
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.
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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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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
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The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.
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Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
William Wordsworth
Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect
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Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
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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.
William Wordsworth
I listened, motionless and still And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
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Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
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In spite of difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs-in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed, the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time.
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Miss not the occasion by the forelock take that subtle power, the never-halting time.
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By happy chance we saw A twofold image: on a grassy bank A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood Another and the same!
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The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
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That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.
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How is it that you live, and what is it you do?
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And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
William Wordsworth
