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The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.

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
Starry
Hills
Lonely
Sky
Among
Silence
Sleep

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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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Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
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Either still I find Some imperfection in the chosen theme, Or see of absolute accomplishment Much wanting, so much wanting, in myself, That I recoil and droop, and seek repose In listlessness from vain perplexity, Unprofitably travelling towards the grave.
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And I am happy when I sing.
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Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
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In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
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But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
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A Primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him And it was something more.
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