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O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive!
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
Remembers
Doth
Joy
Nature
Remember
Live
Something
Embers
Fugitive
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Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
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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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We live by admiration, hope and love.
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And mighty poets in their misery dead.
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Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
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A power is passing from the earth.
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And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy because We have been glad of yore.
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How is it that you live, and what is it you do?
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A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
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For nature then to me was all in all.
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Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!
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I look for ghosts but none will force Their way to me. 'Tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Between the living and the dead.
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We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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Neither evil tongues, rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life, shall ever prevail against us.
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