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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.

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
Dejection
Mounted
Sink
Lows
Delight
High
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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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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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Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep, by any stealth: So do not let me wear to-night away. Without thee what is all the morning's wealth? Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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We murder to dissect.
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There is a comfort in the strength of love 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
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I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy, The sleepless soul that perished in his pride Of him who walked in glory and in joy, Following his plough, along the mountain-side. By our own spirits we are deified We Poets in our youth begin in gladness, But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
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And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
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O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
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Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.
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Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect
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Neither evil tongues, rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life, shall ever prevail against us.
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When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign is solitude.
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Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.
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To character and success, two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together... humble dependence on God and manly reliance on self.
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Stern daughter of the voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring and reprove.
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She gave me eyes, she gave me ears And humble cares, and delicate fears A heart, the fountain of sweet tears And love and thought and joy.
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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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