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Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither.
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
Sight
Though
Inland
Soul
Hither
Immortal
Souls
Brought
Sea
Ocean
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Rest and be thankful.
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Dreams, books, are each a world.
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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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Books are the best type of the influence of the past.
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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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Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.
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Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.
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If thou art beautiful, and youth and thought endue thee with all truth-be strong--be worthy of the grace of God.
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Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
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I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led.
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Then blame not those who, by the mightiest lever Known to the moral world, Imagination.
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No motion has she now, no force she neither hears nor sees rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones, and trees.
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Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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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.
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The budding rose above the rose full blown.
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My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began So is it now I am a man So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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There is a comfort in the strength of love 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
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[Mathematics] is an independent world created out of pure intelligence.
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Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snow-drop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
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But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.
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