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The mysteries that cups of flowers infold And all the gorgeous sights which fairies do behold.

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
Sight
Fairies
Flower
Sights
Mystery
Behold
Mysteries
Gorgeous
Cups
Fairy

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No motion has she now, no force she neither hears nor sees rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones, and trees.
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Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters.
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But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
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How is it that you live, and what is it you do?
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Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue.
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That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.
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We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.
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Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
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We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
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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.
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Yon foaming flood seems motionless as iceIts dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.
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Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
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The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
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One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
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