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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
Sky
Nest
Ground
Pilgrim
Upon
Nests
Minstrel
Eye
Aspire
Minstrels
Earth
Despise
Dewy
Care
Cares
Abound
Heart
Thou
Dost
Wings
Ethereal
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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For nature then to me was all in all.
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Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.
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Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
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Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
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My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
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Poetry has never brought me in enough money to buy shoestrings.
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I'm not talking about a show me other walls of this thing button, I mean a stumble button for wallbase.
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
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I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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Laying out grounds... may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.... it is to assist Nature in moving the affections... the affections of those who have the deepest perception of the beauty of Nature.
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The thought of death sits easy on the man Who has been born and dies among the mountains.
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All men feel a habitual gratitude, and something of an honorable bigotry, for the objects which have long continued to please them.
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Oft in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.
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Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.
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Wisdom sits with children round her knees.
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Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
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Death is the quiet haven of us all.
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