Quote

She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.

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
First
Stars
Dawn
Ornament
Things
Upon
Fairs
Phantom
Time
Eye
Lovely
Ornaments
Like
Moment
Fair
Phantoms
Moments
Delight
Cheerful
Gleamed
Else
Sight
Twilight
Dusky
May
Hair
Drawn
Apparition
Firsts
Eyes
Sent
Apparitions

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky - I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie Sleepless.
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The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.
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Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!
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Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
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And what if thou, sweet May, hast known Mishap by worm and blight If expectations newly blown Have perished in thy sight If loves and joys, while up they sprung, Were caught as in a snare Such is the lot of all the young, However bright and fair.
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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
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We murder to dissect.
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The very flowers are sacred to the poor.
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The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.
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To character and success, two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together... humble dependence on God and manly reliance on self.
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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 intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!
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How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
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Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source, The rapt one, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth: And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth.
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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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Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
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One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
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These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
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The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.
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But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise,O Nature! we are thine.
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