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For all things are less dreadful than they seem.

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
Less
Seems
Things
Dreadful
Perspective
Seem

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In years that bring the philosophic mind.
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By all means sometimes be alone salute thyself see what thy soul doth wear dare to look in thy chest and tumble up and down what thou findest there.
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O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive!
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We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
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The sunshine is a glorious birth But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
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in the mind of man, A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things.
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poetry is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge
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She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.
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Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.
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A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
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The mysteries that cups of flowers infold And all the gorgeous sights which fairies do behold.
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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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Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
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Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
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One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.
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The memory of the just survives in Heaven.
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Rapt into still communion that transcends The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, His mind was a thanksgiving to the power That made him it was blessedness and love!
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Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge - it is as immortal as the heart of man.
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