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Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.
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
Summer
Fate
Flower
Song
Look
Droop
Looks
Daybreak
Even
Flowers
Blow
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Memories... images and precious thoughts that shall not die and cannot be destroyed.
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Prompt to move but firm to wait - knowing things rashly sought are rarely found.
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How is it that you live, and what is it you do?
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Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan.
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But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things.
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Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
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Men who can hear the Decalogue, and feel To self-reproach.
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We murder to dissect.
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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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A deep distress has humanised my soul.
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Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
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Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!
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Yon foaming flood seems motionless as iceIts dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.
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Since thy return, through days and weeks Of hope that grew by stealth, How many wan and faded cheeks Have kindled into health! The Old, by thee revived, have said, 'Another year is ours' And wayworn Wanderers, poorly fed, Have smiled upon thy flowers.
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Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
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In heaven above, And earth below, they best can serve true gladness Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.
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And when the stream Which overflowed the soul was passed away, A consciousness remained that it had left Deposited upon the silent shore Of memory images and precious thoughts That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.
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What are fears but voices airy? Whispering harm where harm is not. And deluding the unwary Till the fatal bolt is shot!
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To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye.
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And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy because We have been glad of yore.
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