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If thou art beautiful, and youth and thought endue thee with all truth-be strong--be worthy of the grace of God.
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
Beautiful
Thou
Thought
Thee
Truth
Worthy
Youth
Grace
Beauty
Strong
Art
More quotes by William Wordsworth
How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
William Wordsworth
If the time should ever come when what is now called Science, thus famliarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the Poet will lend his divine spirit to the aid the transfiguration, and will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of the household of man.
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Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.
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To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
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To be young was very heaven!
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We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.
William Wordsworth
Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!
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This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed.
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In heaven above, And earth below, they best can serve true gladness Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.
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A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.
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The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.
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With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming commonplace Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace Which love makes for thee!
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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But He is risen, a later star of dawn.
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'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
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Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
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There is creation in the eye.
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No motion has she now, no force she neither hears nor sees rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones, and trees.
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Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
William Wordsworth
