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Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
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
Wings
Ethereal
Sky
Nest
Ground
Pilgrim
Upon
Nests
Minstrel
Eye
Aspire
Minstrels
Earth
Despise
Dewy
Care
Cares
Abound
Heart
Thou
Dost
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We Poets in our youth begin in gladness But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
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Like an army defeated the snow hath retreated.
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There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.
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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things: We murder to dissect.
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Often have I sighed to measure By myself a lonely pleasure,- Sighed to think I read a book, Only read, perhaps, by me.
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Brothers all In honour, as in one community, Scholars and gentlemen.
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And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.
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Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
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A youth to whom was given So much of earth, so much of heaven.
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The education of circumstances is superior to that of tuition.
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Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
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She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be But she is in her grave, and oh The difference to me!
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A lawyer art thou? Draw not nigh! Go, carry to some fitter place The keenness of that practised eye, The hardness of that sallow face.
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Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan.
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Then blame not those who, by the mightiest lever Known to the moral world, Imagination.
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Worse than idle is compassion if it ends in tears and sighs.
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Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.
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But hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity.
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