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Yon foaming flood seems motionless as iceIts dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.
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
Eye
Motionless
Seems
Turbulence
Elude
Dizzy
Frozen
Flood
Ice
Foaming
Distance
Eludes
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
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The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.
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Give all thou canst high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.
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In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't know what he is doing.
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Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.
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Habit rules the unreflecting herd.
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When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
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The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can.
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Plain living and high thinking are no more. The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws.
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But who shall parcel out His intellect by geometric rules, Split like a province into round and square?
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We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love And, even as these are well and wisely fixed, In dignity of being we ascend.
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Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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But to a higher mark than song can reach, Rose this pure eloquence.
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Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
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May books and nature be their early joy!
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But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.
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But hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity.
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Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
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My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began So is it now I am a man.
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Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.
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