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Rapt into still communion that transcends The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, His mind was a thanksgiving to the power That made him it was blessedness and love!
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
Office
Rapt
Prayer
Blessedness
Stills
Transcends
Power
Offices
Still
Thanksgiving
Made
Communion
Mind
Imperfect
Love
Praise
More quotes by William Wordsworth
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.
William Wordsworth
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.
William Wordsworth
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
William Wordsworth
The light that never was, on sea or land The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
William Wordsworth
Huge and mighty forms that do not live like living men, moved slowly through the mind by day and were trouble to my dreams.
William Wordsworth
There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead.
William Wordsworth
The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can.
William Wordsworth
The human mind is capable of excitement without the application of gross and violent stimulants and he must have a very faint perception of its beauty and dignity who does not know this.
William Wordsworth
This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed.
William Wordsworth
The memory of the just survives in Heaven.
William Wordsworth
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
William Wordsworth
Books are the best type of the influence of the past.
William Wordsworth
She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
William Wordsworth
With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.
William Wordsworth
The stars of midnight shall be dear To her and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
William Wordsworth
Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
William Wordsworth
'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
William Wordsworth
He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
William Wordsworth
Now when the primrose makes a splendid show, And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with one desire Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire, Poor Robin is yet flowerless but how gay With his red stalks upon this sunny day!
William Wordsworth
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
William Wordsworth
