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Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
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
Sweet
Trailed
Faith
Primrose
Enjoy
Wreaths
Every
Breathes
Enjoys
Breathe
Tufts
Air
Bower
Flower
Periwinkle
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.
William Wordsworth
Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Their snow-white blossoms on my head, With brightest sunshine round me spread Of spring's unclouded weather, In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard-seat! And birds and flowers once more to greet, My last year's friends together.
William Wordsworth
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.
William Wordsworth
The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
William Wordsworth
Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
William Wordsworth
Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
William Wordsworth
The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.
William Wordsworth
We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
William Wordsworth
Everything is tedious when one does not read with the feeling of the Author.
William Wordsworth
In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
William Wordsworth
The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives.
William Wordsworth
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.
William Wordsworth
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
William Wordsworth
But who would force the soul tilts with a straw Against a champion cased in adamant
William Wordsworth
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.
William Wordsworth
The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
William Wordsworth
Prompt to move but firm to wait - knowing things rashly sought are rarely found.
William Wordsworth
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.
William Wordsworth
The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away than what it leaves behind.
William Wordsworth
The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
William Wordsworth
