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The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink I heard a voice it said Drink, pretty creature, drink'
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
Pretty
Dew
Heard
Blink
Stars
Creature
Voice
Falling
Fall
Began
Fast
Creatures
Drink
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When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
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O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.
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One with more of soul in his face than words on his tongue.
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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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The very flowers are sacred to the poor.
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the Mind of Man-- My haunt, and the main region of my song.
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A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?
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Death is the quiet haven of us all.
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That to this mountain-daisy's self were known The beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrown On the smooth surface of this naked stone!
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A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
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But who shall parcel out His intellect by geometric rules, Split like a province into round and square?
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The eye— it cannot choose but see we cannot bid the ear be still our bodies feel, where'er they be, against or with our will.
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Nature's old felicities.
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Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.
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The sunshine is a glorious birth But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
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A power is passing from the earth.
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The stars of midnight shall be dear To her and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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Laying out grounds may be considered a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.
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