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The very flowers are sacred to the poor.

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
Flowers
Sacred
Flower
Poor

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Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises.
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A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.
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Free as a bird to settle where I will.
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He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,- The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
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The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift, That no philosophy can lift.
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Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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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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As in the eye of Nature he has lived, So in the eye of Nature let him die!
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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
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Small service is true service, while it lasts.
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But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.
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Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
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My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
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In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't know what he is doing.
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Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snow-drop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
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Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind And worse, against ourselves.
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Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.
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We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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Departing summer hath assumed An aspect tenderly illumed, The gentlest look of spring That calls from yonder leafy shade Unfaded, yet prepared to fade, A timely carolling.
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