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To be young was very heaven!

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
Youth
Heaven
Young

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Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
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... and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
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Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
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Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.
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Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there, one of a mighty multitude whose way and motion is a harmony and dance magnificent.
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The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink I heard a voice it said Drink, pretty creature, drink'
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Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
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My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began So is it now I am a man So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
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Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.
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Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride.
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Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
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With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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There is creation in the eye.
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Love betters what is best
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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
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To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye.
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Where the statue stood Of Newton, with his prism and silent face, The marble index of a mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of thought alone.
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poetry is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge
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