Quote

Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!

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
Fields
Render
Steps
Echoes
Eye
Warning
Trod
Show
Spot
Pangs
Shows
Hath
Thoughtless
Earth
Spots
Grove
Back
Field
Witnessed
Men
Image
Echo

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Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present, to live better in the future.
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Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
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Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light
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Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
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Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.
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A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.
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Laying out grounds may be considered a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.
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Take the sweet poetry of life away, and what remains behind?
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Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.
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O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive!
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Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains and of all that we behold from this green earth.
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The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift, That no philosophy can lift.
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For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.
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From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
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Whether we be young or old,Our destiny, our being's heart and home,Is with infinitude, and only thereWith hope it is, hope that can never die,Effort and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.
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Up! up! my friend, and quit your books, Or surely you 'll grow double! Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks! Why all this toil and trouble?
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Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there, one of a mighty multitude whose way and motion is a harmony and dance magnificent.
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