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But who would force the soul tilts with a straw Against a champion cased in adamant
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
Force
Soul
Would
Tilts
Adamant
Tilt
Straw
Straws
Champion
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
William Wordsworth
The monumental pomp of age Was with this goodly personage A stature undepressed in size, Unbent, which rather seemed to rise In open victory o'er the weight Of seventy years, to loftier height.
William Wordsworth
Yet sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up, He felt with spirit so profound.
William Wordsworth
A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light
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Monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial.
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We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.
William Wordsworth
poetry is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge
William Wordsworth
Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
William Wordsworth
But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for humankind, Is happy as a lover.
William Wordsworth
And suddenly all your troubles melt away, all your worries are gone, and it is for no reason other than the look in your partner's eyes. Yes, sometimes life and love really is that simple.
William Wordsworth
Science appears but what in truth she is, Not as our glory and our absolute boast, But as a succedaneum, and a prop To our infirmity.
William Wordsworth
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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Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
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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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Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
William Wordsworth
What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
William Wordsworth
I'm not talking about a show me other walls of this thing button, I mean a stumble button for wallbase.
William Wordsworth
Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.
William Wordsworth
The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone
William Wordsworth
The child is father of the man: And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
William Wordsworth
