William Wordsworth Quotes

My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.

Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.

Departing summer hath assumed An aspect tenderly illumed, The gentlest look of spring; That calls from yonder leafy shade Unfaded, yet prepared to fade, A timely carolling.

The Eagle, he was lord above

Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice;Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.

A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.

And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.

my brain Worked with a dim and undetermined sense Of unknown modes of being; o'er my thoughts There hung a darkness, call it solitude Or blank desertion.

A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.

Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.

Wisdom sits with children round her knees.

I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.

We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.

The child shall become father to the man.

The wealthiest man among us is the best

Nature's old felicities.

I look for ghosts; but none will force Their way to me. 'Tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Between the living and the dead.

Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.

Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.

Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.

What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.

A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.

And mighty poets in their misery dead.

What are fears but voices airy? Whispering harm where harm is not. And deluding the unwary Till the fatal bolt is shot!

Death is the quiet haven of us all.

Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.

The moving accident is not my trade; To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.

But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things.

Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.

Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!

"One impulse from a vernal wood

All men feel a habitual gratitude, and something of an honorable bigotry, for the objects which have long continued to please them.

Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.

Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!

The unconquerable pang of despised love.

Worse than idle is compassion if it ends in tears and sighs.

The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.

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.

The clouds that gather round the setting sun, Do take a sober colouring from an eye, That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.

The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.

A power is passing from the earth.

In years that bring the philosophic mind.

The monumental pomp of age Was with this goodly personage; A stature undepressed in size, Unbent, which rather seemed to rise In open victory o'er the weight Of seventy years, to loftier height.

Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.

A youth to whom was given So much of earth, so much of heaven.

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.

Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.

The primal duties shine aloft, like stars; The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless, Are scattered at the feet of Man, like flowers.

His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.