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He who feels contempt for any living thing hath faculties that he hath never used, and thought with him is in its infancy.

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
Living
Thought
Used
Feels
Faculties
Thing
Infancy
Never
Hath
Contempt
Faculty

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Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
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Death is the quiet haven of us all.
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Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!
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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!
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Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.
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A light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove.
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Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
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What is good for a bootless bene? With these dark words begins my tale And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
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I should dread to disfigure the beautiful ideal of the memories of illustrious persons with incongruous features, and to sully the imaginative purity of classical works with gross and trivial recollections.
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Truths that wake To perish never
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing is solitude
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When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
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All men feel a habitual gratitude, and something of an honorable bigotry, for the objects which have long continued to please them.
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Serene will be our days, and bright and happy will our nature be, when love is an unerring light, and joy its own security.
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Give all thou canst high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.
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Free as a bird to settle where I will.
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Thou has left behind Powers that will work for thee,-air, earth, and skies! There 's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee thou hast great allies Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
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Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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