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The wealthiest man among us is the best

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
Wealthiest
Among
Wealth
Best
Men

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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
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This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed.
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With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society.
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Poetry is most just to its divine origin, when it administers the comforts and breathes the thoughts of religion.
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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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Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness.
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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
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Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
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[Mathematics] is an independent world created out of pure intelligence.
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We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.
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