Quote

Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster child, her inmate man, Forget the glories he hath known And that imperial palace whence he came.

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
Kind
Child
Yearning
Whence
Mind
Known
Nurse
Palace
Something
Forget
Pleasures
Foster
Inmate
Make
Natural
Hath
Lap
Yearnings
Men
Mother
Aim
Palaces
Inmates
Earth
Glory
Fills
Glories
Children
Came
Unworthy
Homely
Even
Pleasure
Doth
Imperial

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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
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Earth helped him with the cry of blood.
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A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.
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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.
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Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
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The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
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Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet.
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Behold the Child among his new-born blisses A six years' Darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art.
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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
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Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.
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But He is risen, a later star of dawn.
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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
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Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
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Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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