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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
World
Belief
Flames
Story
Hearts
Fact
Exciting
Assent
Facts
Remains
Lacked
Stories
Research
Solace
Power
Youth
Flame
Soul
Days
Severe
Heart
Came
Heroic
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will Dear God! the very houses seem asleep And all that mighty heart is lying still!
William Wordsworth
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!
William Wordsworth
We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
William Wordsworth
Open-mindedness is the harvest of a quiet eye.
William Wordsworth
Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source, The rapt one, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth: And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth.
William Wordsworth
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.
William Wordsworth
That best portion of a man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.
William Wordsworth
The world is too much with us late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.
William Wordsworth
Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
William Wordsworth
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
William Wordsworth
But who would force the soul tilts with a straw Against a champion cased in adamant
William Wordsworth
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things: We murder to dissect.
William Wordsworth
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.
William Wordsworth
A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
William Wordsworth
The thought of death sits easy on the man Who has been born and dies among the mountains.
William Wordsworth
I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy, The sleepless soul that perished in his pride Of him who walked in glory and in joy, Following his plough, along the mountain-side. By our own spirits we are deified We Poets in our youth begin in gladness, But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
William Wordsworth
Rest and be thankful.
William Wordsworth
Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
William Wordsworth
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.
William Wordsworth
Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.
William Wordsworth
