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There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead.
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
Alone
Society
Living
Earth
Great
Life
Nobility
Noble
Dead
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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
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Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
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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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Oh, blank confusion! true epitome Of what the mighty City is herself, To thousands upon thousands of her sons, Living amid the same perpetual whirl Of trivial objects, melted and reduced To one identity.
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The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
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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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one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
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Far from the world I walk, and from all care.
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When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
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With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
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Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.
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Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
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Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
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But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.
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Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.
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Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine.
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By all means sometimes be alone salute thyself see what thy soul doth wear dare to look in thy chest and tumble up and down what thou findest there.
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Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
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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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