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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

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William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Happiness
Humankind
Faces
Lover
Happy
Awful
Upon
Lovers
Moment
Issues
Moments
Called
Great
Face
Good
Heaven
Joined

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.
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For nature then to me was all in all.
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Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
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Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
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Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
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A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.
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He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,- The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
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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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Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
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From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
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Open-mindedness is the harvest of a quiet eye.
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Earth helped him with the cry of blood.
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Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue.
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I listened, motionless and still And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
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I look for ghosts but none will force Their way to me. 'Tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Between the living and the dead.
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
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I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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