Quote

Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep, by any stealth: So do not let me wear to-night away. Without thee what is all the morning's wealth? Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!

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
Come
Winning
Dear
Barrier
Without
Lasts
Wear
Joyous
Even
Last
Blessed
Nights
Away
Thoughts
Barriers
Mother
Health
Fresh
Night
Wealth
Lays
Two
Sleep
Thee
Dream
Morning
Thus
Stealth

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Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
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Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
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Rapt into still communion that transcends The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, His mind was a thanksgiving to the power That made him it was blessedness and love!
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Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my casement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring. * * * * * Then, little Bird, this boon confer, Come, and my requiem sing, Nor fail to be the harbinger Of everlasting spring.
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But trailing clouds of glory do we come, From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!.
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In years that bring the philosophic mind.
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But how can he expect that others should Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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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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Bright was the summer's noon when quickening steps Followed each other till a dreary moor Was crossed, a bare ridge clomb, upon whose top Standing alone, as from a rampart's edge, I overlooked the bed of Windermere, Like a vast river, stretching in the sun.
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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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Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
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What know we of the Blest above but that they sing, and that they love?
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Up! up! my friend, and quit your books, Or surely you 'll grow double! Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks! Why all this toil and trouble?
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Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none / Look up a second time, and, one by one, / You mark them twinkling out with silvery light, / And wonder how they could elude the sight!
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For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Fair trains of images before me rise, Accompanied by feelings of delight Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed.
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When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my Country--am I to be blamed?
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