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Wisdom sits with children round her knees.

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
Sits
Knees
Round
Rounds
Wisdom
Children

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In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.
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And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
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The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
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Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet.
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Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
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Imagination, which in truth Is but another name for absolute power And clearest insight, amplitude of mind, And reason, in her most exalted mood.
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The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
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I look for ghosts but none will force Their way to me. 'Tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Between the living and the dead.
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
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Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.
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When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign is solitude.
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Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains and of all that we behold from this green earth.
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We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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Let Nature be your teacher
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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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Before us lay a painful road, And guidance have I sought in duteous love From Wisdom's heavenly Father. Hence hath flowed Patience, with trust that, whatsoe'er the way Each takes in this high matter, all may move Cheered with the prospect of a brighter day.
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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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.
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'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
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