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Knowing that Nature never did betray the heart that loved her 'tis her privilege, through all the years of this our life, to lead from joy to joy.

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
Lead
Life
Joy
Loved
Knowing
Nature
Heart
Betray
Years
Privilege
Never

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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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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Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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Sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.
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Dreams, books, are each a world and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
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one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
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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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Primroses, the Spring may love them Summer knows but little of them.
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She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
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Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
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Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
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For mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
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As in the eye of Nature he has lived, So in the eye of Nature let him die!
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One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
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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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Poetry is most just to its divine origin, when it administers the comforts and breathes the thoughts of religion.
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Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.
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The wealthiest man among us is the best
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A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
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Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.
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