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Meek Walton's heavenly memory.

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
Meek
Heavenly
Memory
Memories
Walton

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The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
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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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The Poet, gentle creature as he is, Hath, like the Lover, his unruly times His fits when he is neither sick nor well, Though no distress be near him but his own Unmanageable thoughts.
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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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Everything is tedious when one does not read with the feeling of the Author.
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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The child is father of the man.
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Either still I find Some imperfection in the chosen theme, Or see of absolute accomplishment Much wanting, so much wanting, in myself, That I recoil and droop, and seek repose In listlessness from vain perplexity, Unprofitably travelling towards the grave.
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She seemed a thing that could not feel the touch of earthly years.
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Chains tie us down by land and sea And wishes, vain as mine, may be All that is left to comfort thee.
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I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.
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