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And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.

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
Wisest
Wise

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And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
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For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.
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A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
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Let the moon shine on the in thy solitary walk and let the misty mountain-winds be free to blow against thee.
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We murder to dissect.
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But to a higher mark than song can reach, Rose this pure eloquence.
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one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
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Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.
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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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When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my Country--am I to be blamed?
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Take the sweet poetry of life away, and what remains behind?
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Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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A power is passing from the earth.
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Stop thinking for once in your life!
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Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine.
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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art Close up these barren leaves Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.
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In spite of difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs-in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed, the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time.
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In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.
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Oft in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.
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Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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