William Wordsworth
William Wordsworth
William Wordsworthwas a major English Romantic poet who, with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, helped to launch the Romantic Age in English literature with their joint publication Lyrical Ballads...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth7 April 1770
nature growing sound
The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can.
distance eye ice
Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice;Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.
music sweet distance
Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
sweet heaven body
I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven Was blowing on my body, felt within A correspondent breeze, that gently moved With quickening virtue, but is now become A tempest, a redundant energy, Vexing its own creation.
joy remember embers
O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive!
brother community gentleman
Brothers all In honour, as in one community, Scholars and gentlemen.
water england needs
Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters.
sweet lying feet
Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet.
dream strong home
And oft I thought (my fancy was-so strong) That I, at last, a resting-place had found: 'Here: will I dwell,' said I,' my whole life long, Roaming the illimitable waters round; Here will I live, of all but heaven disowned. And end my days upon the peaceful flood - To break my dream the vessel reached its bound; And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.
sadness men solitude
On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Fair trains of images before me rise, Accompanied by feelings of delight Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed.
sweet art grace
With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming commonplace Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace Which love makes for thee!
grateful blessing green-fields
Oh there is blessing in this gentle breeze, A visitant that while it fans my cheek Doth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings From the green fields, and from yon azure sky. Whate'er its mission, the soft breeze can come To none more grateful than to me; escaped From the vast city, where I long had pined A discontented sojourner: now free, Free as a bird to settle where I will.
sleep clouds sheep
Two voices are there: one is of the deep; It learns the storm-cloud's thunderous melody, Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea, Now bird-like pipes, now closes soft in sleep: And one is of an old half-witted sheep Which bleats articulate monotony, And indicates that two and one are three, That grass is green, lakes damp, and mountains steep And, Wordsworth, both are thine.
kind shelves statutes
Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind; And worse, against ourselves.