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The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.

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
Hair
Ever
Men
Hairs
Oldest
Wore
Grey
Seemed

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The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society.
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The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.
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Action is transitory, a step, a blow, The motion of a muscle, this way or that, 'Tis done--And in the after-vacancy, We wonder at ourselves, like men betrayed.
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Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!- The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.
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A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
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In spite of difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs-in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed, the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time.
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Nor less I deem that there are Powers Which of themselves our minds impress That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness
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The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.
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I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.
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The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about and should the chosen guide Be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way.
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That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.
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A soul so pitiably forlorn, If such do on this earth abide, May season apathy with scorn, May turn indifference to pride And still be not unblest- compared With him who grovels, self-debarred From all that lies within the scope Of holy faith and christian hope Or, shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
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That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises.
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Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
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Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect
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