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There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.

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
Common
Freshness
Dream
Meadows
Light
Celestial
Seems
Stream
Earth
Streams
Every
Sight
Time
Glory
Meadow
Seem
Grove

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The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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We live by admiration, hope and love.
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Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.
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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art Close up these barren leaves Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.
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Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
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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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Those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised
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Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.
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'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.
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How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
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Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride.
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The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!
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Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
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