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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.
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
Sweet
Indifferent
Pay
Ease
Joy
Mood
Pleasure
Secure
Kindliness
Nature
Safety
Vacant
Heart
Stones
Stocks
Things
Loves
Wasting
Air
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More quotes by William Wordsworth
Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.
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Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.
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Far from the world I walk, and from all care.
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Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.
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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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Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
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The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
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Rest and be thankful.
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A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
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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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O dearer far than light and life are dear.
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Yon foaming flood seems motionless as iceIts dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.
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Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.
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Behold the Child among his new-born blisses A six years' Darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art.
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Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.
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Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose type of things through all degrees.
William Wordsworth
The very flowers are sacred to the poor.
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Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
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There is creation in the eye.
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