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Earth has not anything to show more fair.

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
Fairs
Fair
Show
Shows
Earth
Anything
Classic

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.
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The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
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One solace yet remains for us who came Into this world in days when story lacked Severe research, that in our hearts we know How, for exciting youth's heroic flame, Assent is power, belief the soul of fact.
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These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
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With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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The eye— it cannot choose but see we cannot bid the ear be still our bodies feel, where'er they be, against or with our will.
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'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.
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Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
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In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.
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Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
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And the most difficult of tasks to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
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Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep/ Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind.
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Whether we be young or old,Our destiny, our being's heart and home,Is with infinitude, and only thereWith hope it is, hope that can never die,Effort and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.
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This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
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For mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
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The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
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My apprehension comes in crowds, I dread the rustling of the grass, The very shadows of the clouds, Have power to shake me as they pass, I question things and do not find, one that will answer to my mind, And all the world appears unkind.
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Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet
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The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!
William Wordsworth
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Plain living and high thinking are no more. The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws.
William Wordsworth