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And when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet whence he blew Soul-animating strains,-alas! too few.

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
Became
Whence
Path
Blew
Hand
Trumpets
Hands
Strain
Animating
Soul
Alas
Strains
Thing
Fell
Trumpet
Round
Milton
Rounds
Damp

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A brotherhood of venerable trees.
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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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In spite of difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs-in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed, the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time.
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one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
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The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
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