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She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be But she is in her grave, and oh The difference to me!
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
Life
Lucy
Ceased
Grave
Graves
Unknown
Lived
Difference
Differences
More quotes by William Wordsworth
A youth to whom was given So much of earth, so much of heaven.
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Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet.
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All that we behold is full of blessings.
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One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
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The human mind is capable of excitement without the application of gross and violent stimulants and he must have a very faint perception of its beauty and dignity who does not know this.
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How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
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Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou soul, that art the eternity of thought, And giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion.
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...one interior life in which all beings live with God, themselves are God, existing in the mighty whole, indistinguishable as the cloudless east is from the cloudless west, when all the hemisphere is one cerulean blue.
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Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, --Or some secreted island, Heaven knows whereBut in the very world, which is the worldOf all of us, -- the place where in the endWe find our happiness, or not at all
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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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Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
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As in the eye of Nature he has lived, So in the eye of Nature let him die!
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.
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Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster child, her inmate man, Forget the glories he hath known And that imperial palace whence he came.
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And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.
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We Poets in our youth begin in gladness But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
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Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Their snow-white blossoms on my head, With brightest sunshine round me spread Of spring's unclouded weather, In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard-seat! And birds and flowers once more to greet, My last year's friends together.
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True dignity abides with him alone Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, Can still suspect, and still revere himself, In lowliness of heart.
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Prompt to move but firm to wait - knowing things rashly sought are rarely found.
William Wordsworth
