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The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.

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
Tumult
Approve
Approval
Gods
Depth
Soul

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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
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And I am happy when I sing.
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A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.
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Love betters what is best
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The light that never was, on sea or land The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
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Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.
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The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about and should the chosen guide Be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way.
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Let the moon shine on the in thy solitary walk and let the misty mountain-winds be free to blow against thee.
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Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
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What are fears but voices airy? Whispering harm where harm is not. And deluding the unwary Till the fatal bolt is shot!
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The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
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We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
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A soul so pitiably forlorn, If such do on this earth abide, May season apathy with scorn, May turn indifference to pride And still be not unblest- compared With him who grovels, self-debarred From all that lies within the scope Of holy faith and christian hope Or, shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts a sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, and the round ocean, and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of man.
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Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
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one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
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Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!
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