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Yet sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up, He felt with spirit so profound.
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
Sometimes
Serious
Went
Secret
Drank
Felt
Cups
Spirit
Round
Thought
Rounds
Stills
Seemed
Still
Profound
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Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
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Stern daughter of the voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring and reprove.
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A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.
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Thou has left behind Powers that will work for thee,-air, earth, and skies! There 's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee thou hast great allies Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
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Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
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Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
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The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose.
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Imagination is the means of deep insight and sympathy, the power to conceive and express images removed from normal objective reality.
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The moving accident is not my trade To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
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And I am happy when I sing.
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The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!
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In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard seat And birds and flowers once more to greet. . . .
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To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
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Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.
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It is the 1st mild day of March. Each minute sweeter than before... there is a blessing in the air.
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