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Primroses, the Spring may love them Summer knows but little of them.

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
Love
Summer
Spring
Littles
May
Little

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.
William Wordsworth
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For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.
William Wordsworth
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She gave me eyes, she gave me ears And humble cares, and delicate fears A heart, the fountain of sweet tears And love and thought and joy.
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Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
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There is a luxury in self-dispraise And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
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Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee! . . . . . . Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness.
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My apprehension comes in crowds, I dread the rustling of the grass, The very shadows of the clouds, Have power to shake me as they pass, I question things and do not find, one that will answer to my mind, And all the world appears unkind.
William Wordsworth
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What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.
William Wordsworth
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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.
William Wordsworth
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.
William Wordsworth
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Wisdom and spirit of the Universe!
William Wordsworth
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No motion has she now, no force she neither hears nor sees rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones, and trees.
William Wordsworth
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The unconquerable pang of despised love.
William Wordsworth
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He loves not well whose love is bold! I would not have thee come too nigh. The sun's gold would not seem pure gold Unless the sun were in the sky: To take him thence and chain him near Would make his beauty disappear. William Winter, Love's Queen. The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.
William Wordsworth
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Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
William Wordsworth
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Oh, blank confusion! true epitome Of what the mighty City is herself, To thousands upon thousands of her sons, Living amid the same perpetual whirl Of trivial objects, melted and reduced To one identity.
William Wordsworth
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Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
William Wordsworth
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Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!
William Wordsworth
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There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.
William Wordsworth