Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride.
William Wordsworth
Share
Change background
T
T
T
Change font
Original
TAGS & TOPICS
William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Thee
Spade
Tools
Spades
Honor
Yielding
Pride
Tool
Art
Soil
Hands
Presses
Earth
Press
Thou
More quotes by William Wordsworth
That best portion of a man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.
William Wordsworth
The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives.
William Wordsworth
The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
William Wordsworth
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.
William Wordsworth
We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
William Wordsworth
Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
William Wordsworth
The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, An appetite a feeling and a love that had no need of a remoter charm by thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
William Wordsworth
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.
William Wordsworth
With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
William Wordsworth
The primal duties shine aloft, like stars The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless, Are scattered at the feet of Man, like flowers.
William Wordsworth
She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.
William Wordsworth
Yon foaming flood seems motionless as iceIts dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.
William Wordsworth
My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
William Wordsworth
Either still I find Some imperfection in the chosen theme, Or see of absolute accomplishment Much wanting, so much wanting, in myself, That I recoil and droop, and seek repose In listlessness from vain perplexity, Unprofitably travelling towards the grave.
William Wordsworth
Earth helped him with the cry of blood.
William Wordsworth
He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
William Wordsworth
The wealthiest man among us is the best
William Wordsworth
And mighty poets in their misery dead.
William Wordsworth
Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
William Wordsworth
The memory of the just survives in Heaven.
William Wordsworth
