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A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.

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
Free
Beautiful
Youth
Age
Happiness
Happy

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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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Spires whose silent finger points to heaven.
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Monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial.
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Wisdom married to immortal verse.
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... and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
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These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
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The moving accident is not my trade To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
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Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine.
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Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride.
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Behold the Child among his new-born blisses A six years' Darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art.
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What is good for a bootless bene? With these dark words begins my tale And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
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The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society.
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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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