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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
High
Change
Dejection
Mounted
Sink
Lows
Delight
More quotes by William Wordsworth
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!
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The thought of death sits easy on the man Who has been born and dies among the mountains.
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Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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The child is father of the man.
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When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my Country--am I to be blamed?
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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
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Faith is a passionate intuition.
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As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.
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A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.
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There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead.
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The primal duties shine aloft, like stars The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless, Are scattered at the feet of Man, like flowers.
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True dignity abides with him alone Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, Can still suspect, and still revere himself, In lowliness of heart.
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The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink I heard a voice it said Drink, pretty creature, drink'
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Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.
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Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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Monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial.
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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How is it that you live, and what is it you do?
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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
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