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Prompt to move but firm to wait - knowing things rashly sought are rarely found.

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
Things
Rarely
Firm
Wait
Move
Knowing
Rashly
Waiting
Prompt
Moving
Prompts
Found
Sought

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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things: We murder to dissect.
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Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
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A babe, by intercourse of touch I held mute dialogues with my Mother's heart.
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Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.
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The Poet, gentle creature as he is, Hath, like the Lover, his unruly times His fits when he is neither sick nor well, Though no distress be near him but his own Unmanageable thoughts.
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When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
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Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
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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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Spires whose silent finger points to heaven.
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I'll teach my boy the sweetest things I'll teach him how the owlet sings.
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And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.
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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
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And when the stream Which overflowed the soul was passed away, A consciousness remained that it had left Deposited upon the silent shore Of memory images and precious thoughts That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.
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I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
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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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Truth takes no account of centuries.
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And through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.
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