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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing is solitude
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
Human
Humans
Men
Musing
Life
Musings
Acceptance
Solitude
Reflection
Nature
More quotes by William Wordsworth
And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy because We have been glad of yore.
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Free as a bird to settle where I will.
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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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Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led.
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Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose type of things through all degrees.
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That inward eye/ Which is the bliss of solitude.
William Wordsworth
The eye— it cannot choose but see we cannot bid the ear be still our bodies feel, where'er they be, against or with our will.
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There is creation in the eye.
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Let the moon shine on the in thy solitary walk and let the misty mountain-winds be free to blow against thee.
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Plain living and high thinking are no more. The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws.
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The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.
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We live by admiration, hope and love.
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Often have I sighed to measure By myself a lonely pleasure,- Sighed to think I read a book, Only read, perhaps, by me.
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That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.
William Wordsworth
I've watched you now a full half-hour Self-poised upon that yellow flower And, little Butterfly! Indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless! - not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again!
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For mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
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My apprehension comes in crowds, I dread the rustling of the grass, The very shadows of the clouds, Have power to shake me as they pass, I question things and do not find, one that will answer to my mind, And all the world appears unkind.
William Wordsworth
The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.
William Wordsworth
As in the eye of Nature he has lived, So in the eye of Nature let him die!
William Wordsworth
