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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.
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
Certain
Degree
Great
Degrees
Men
Poet
Consonant
Short
Consonants
Pure
Rectify
Ought
Render
Feelings
Sane
Nature
Permanent
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Chains tie us down by land and sea And wishes, vain as mine, may be All that is left to comfort thee.
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Let Nature be your teacher
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May books and nature be their early joy!
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The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
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Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
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Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
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Knowledge and increase of enduring joy From the great Nature that exists in works Of mighty Poets.
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Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none / Look up a second time, and, one by one, / You mark them twinkling out with silvery light, / And wonder how they could elude the sight!
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Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there, one of a mighty multitude whose way and motion is a harmony and dance magnificent.
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There is a luxury in self-dispraise And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
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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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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
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In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
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Love betters what is best
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The vision and the faculty divine Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
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Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
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Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou soul, that art the eternity of thought, And giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion.
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Two voices are there one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
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The monumental pomp of age Was with this goodly personage A stature undepressed in size, Unbent, which rather seemed to rise In open victory o'er the weight Of seventy years, to loftier height.
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