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Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.

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
Earth
Oblivion
Take
Comment
Vanity
Evening
Daily
Birth
Fuming
Shows
Vanities
Nature
Meek

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Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
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Books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age more precious far Than that accumulated store of gold And orient gems, which, for a day of need, The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. These hoards of truth you can unlock at will.
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The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away than what it leaves behind.
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When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my Country--am I to be blamed?
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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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This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed.
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Thought and theory must precede all action, that moves to salutary purposes. Yet action is nobler in itself than either thought or theory.
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These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
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That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect
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I've watched you now a full half-hour Self-poised upon that yellow flower And, little Butterfly! Indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless! - not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again!
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And suddenly all your troubles melt away, all your worries are gone, and it is for no reason other than the look in your partner's eyes. Yes, sometimes life and love really is that simple.
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But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise,O Nature! we are thine.
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And mighty poets in their misery dead.
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And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy because We have been glad of yore.
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Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou soul, that art the eternity of thought, And giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion.
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Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
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Take the sweet poetry of life away, and what remains behind?
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