Quote

The stars of midnight shall be dear To her and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.

William Wordsworth

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Many
Beauty
Midnight
Stars
Round
Secret
Rounds
Face
Pass
Faces
Ears
Rivulets
Sound
Dear
Wayward
Born
Dance
Murmuring
Place
Shall
Lean

More quotes by William Wordsworth

Image
For all things are less dreadful than they seem.
William Wordsworth
Image
But trailing clouds of glory do we come, From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!.
William Wordsworth
Image
Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
William Wordsworth
Image
Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
William Wordsworth
Image
Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!
William Wordsworth
Image
Then blame not those who, by the mightiest lever Known to the moral world, Imagination.
William Wordsworth
Image
Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
William Wordsworth
Image
The clouds that gather round the setting sun, Do take a sober colouring from an eye, That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.
William Wordsworth
Image
Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
William Wordsworth
Image
A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.
William Wordsworth
Image
Wisdom sits with children round her knees.
William Wordsworth
Image
Whether we be young or old,Our destiny, our being's heart and home,Is with infinitude, and only thereWith hope it is, hope that can never die,Effort and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.
William Wordsworth
Image
Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
William Wordsworth
Image
Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
William Wordsworth
Image
Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!
William Wordsworth
Image
One solace yet remains for us who came Into this world in days when story lacked Severe research, that in our hearts we know How, for exciting youth's heroic flame, Assent is power, belief the soul of fact.
William Wordsworth
Image
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.
William Wordsworth
Image
He loves not well whose love is bold! I would not have thee come too nigh. The sun's gold would not seem pure gold Unless the sun were in the sky: To take him thence and chain him near Would make his beauty disappear. William Winter, Love's Queen. The unconquerable pang of despised love.
William Wordsworth
Image
For oft, when on my couch I lie in vacant or in pensive mood they flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude
William Wordsworth
Image
Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.
William Wordsworth