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Earth helped him with the cry of blood.

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
Helped
Cry
Blood
Earth

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn
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Those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised
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Mark the babe not long accustomed to this breathing world One that hath barely learned to shape a smile, though yet irrational of soul, to grasp with tiny finger - to let fall a tear And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves, To stretch his limbs, becoming, as might seem. The outward functions of intelligent man.
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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I'm not talking about a show me other walls of this thing button, I mean a stumble button for wallbase.
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One impulse from a vernal wood
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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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I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.
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Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
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A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
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At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
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The world is too much with us late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.
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Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
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For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.
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A light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove.
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
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Dreams, books, are each a world.
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Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
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