Quote

The softest breeze to fairest flowers gives birth: Think not that Prudence dwells in dark abodes, She scans the future with the eye of gods.

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
Birth
Fairest
Gives
Abode
Dark
Dwells
Future
Prudence
Eye
Breeze
Giving
Flowers
Abodes
Think
Gods
Scans
Thinking
Flower
Softest

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Careless of books, yet having felt the power Of Nature, by the gentle agency Of natural objects, led me on to feel For passions that were not my own, and think (At random and imperfectly indeed) On man, the heart of man, and human life.
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What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.
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What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
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Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science
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Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge - it is as immortal as the heart of man.
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But trailing clouds of glory do we come, From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!.
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Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.
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One solace yet remains for us who came Into this world in days when story lacked Severe research, that in our hearts we know How, for exciting youth's heroic flame, Assent is power, belief the soul of fact.
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Not Chaos, not the darkest pit of lowest Erebus, nor aught of blinder vacancy, scooped out by help of dreams - can breed such fear and awe as fall upon us often when we look into our Minds, into the Mind of Man.
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Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
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Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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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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In heaven above, And earth below, they best can serve true gladness Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.
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In spite of difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs-in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed, the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time.
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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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The moving accident is not my trade To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
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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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Great men have been among us hands that penn'd And tongues that utter'd wisdom--better none
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She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.
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