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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.

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
Facts
Remains
Lacked
Stories
Research
Solace
Power
Youth
Flame
Soul
Days
Severe
Heart
Came
Heroic
World
Belief
Flames
Story
Hearts
Fact
Exciting
Assent

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It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea: Listen! the mighty being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thundereverlastingly.
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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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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And through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.
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True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
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My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began So is it now I am a man So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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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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O dearer far than light and life are dear.
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The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.
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Turning, for them who pass, the common dust Of servile opportunity to gold.
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For by superior energies more strict affiance in each other faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.
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Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.
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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.
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And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.
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Milton, thou should'st be living at this hour.
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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
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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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Give all thou canst high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.
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