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O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?

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
Shall
Call
Blithe
Voice
Cuckoo
Cuckoos
Wandering
Wander
Thee
Bird

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A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
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Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan.
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I should dread to disfigure the beautiful ideal of the memories of illustrious persons with incongruous features, and to sully the imaginative purity of classical works with gross and trivial recollections.
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How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
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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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A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.
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Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.
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Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
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