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Where the statue stood Of Newton, with his prism and silent face, The marble index of a mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of thought alone.
William Wordsworth
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William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
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Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Mind
Silent
Prisms
Sea
Index
Strange
Statue
Alone
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Forever
Statues
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Newton
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Prism
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
William Wordsworth
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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Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.
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Nature's old felicities.
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And the most difficult of tasks to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
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Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster child, her inmate man, Forget the glories he hath known And that imperial palace whence he came.
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Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue.
William Wordsworth
A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?
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Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.
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His love was like the liberal air, embracing all, to cheer and bless.
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A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
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In heaven above, And earth below, they best can serve true gladness Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.
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One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.
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A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.
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O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
William Wordsworth
Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none / Look up a second time, and, one by one, / You mark them twinkling out with silvery light, / And wonder how they could elude the sight!
William Wordsworth
Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind And worse, against ourselves.
William Wordsworth
Far from the world I walk, and from all care.
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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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