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Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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
Sleep
Barrier
Mother
Joyous
Come
Barriers
Fresh
Dear
Blessed
Thoughts
Health
More quotes by William Wordsworth
As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
William Wordsworth
O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.
William Wordsworth
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
William Wordsworth
Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snow-drop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
William Wordsworth
But to a higher mark than song can reach, Rose this pure eloquence.
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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.
William Wordsworth
Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill The Ploughboy is whooping — anon — anon! There's joy in the mountains: There's life in the fountains Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing The rain is over and gone.
William Wordsworth
A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.
William Wordsworth
Truth takes no account of centuries.
William Wordsworth
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
William Wordsworth
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
William Wordsworth
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
William Wordsworth
All men feel a habitual gratitude, and something of an honorable bigotry, for the objects which have long continued to please them.
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It is the 1st mild day of March. Each minute sweeter than before... there is a blessing in the air.
William Wordsworth
Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee! . . . . . . Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness.
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What are fears but voices airy? Whispering harm where harm is not. And deluding the unwary Till the fatal bolt is shot!
William Wordsworth
But who shall parcel out His intellect by geometric rules, Split like a province into round and square?
William Wordsworth
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?
William Wordsworth
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
William Wordsworth
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
William Wordsworth
