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But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
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
Thou
Dost
Creation
Rival
Imagination
Rivals
Light
Fond
Delicate
Appear
Fairs
Fair
Didst
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A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
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The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives.
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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
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I look for ghosts but none will force Their way to me. 'Tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Between the living and the dead.
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Often have I sighed to measure By myself a lonely pleasure,- Sighed to think I read a book, Only read, perhaps, by me.
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The vision and the faculty divine Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
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The thought of death sits easy on the man Who has been born and dies among the mountains.
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