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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
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Face
Newton
Faces
Marble
Voyaging
Thought
Stood
Prism
Mind
Silent
Prisms
Sea
Index
Strange
Statue
Alone
Seas
Forever
Statues
More quotes by William Wordsworth
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
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The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.
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He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
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The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone
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The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, An appetite a feeling and a love that had no need of a remoter charm by thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
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Bright was the summer's noon when quickening steps Followed each other till a dreary moor Was crossed, a bare ridge clomb, upon whose top Standing alone, as from a rampart's edge, I overlooked the bed of Windermere, Like a vast river, stretching in the sun.
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy, The sleepless soul that perished in his pride Of him who walked in glory and in joy, Following his plough, along the mountain-side. By our own spirits we are deified We Poets in our youth begin in gladness, But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
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Me this uncharted freedom tires I feel the weight of chance desires, My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
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And what if thou, sweet May, hast known Mishap by worm and blight If expectations newly blown Have perished in thy sight If loves and joys, while up they sprung, Were caught as in a snare Such is the lot of all the young, However bright and fair.
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Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
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Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.
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Memories... images and precious thoughts that shall not die and cannot be destroyed.
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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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The stars of midnight shall be dear To her and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
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The first cuckoo's melancholy cry.
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Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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