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
became good honest ten
After ten months' melancholy,/ Became a good and honest man.
acts best english-poet good kindness life portion
The best portion of a good man's life is his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.
conclude good poem poet produced
A poet who has not produced a good poem before he is twenty-five, we may conclude cannot, and never will do so.
good power simple
Because the good old ruleSufficeth them, the simple plan,That they should take, who have the power,And they should keep who can.
beauty good high homely living plain thinking
Plain living and high thinking are no more:The homely beauty of the good old causeIs gone.
burn die dry dust good hearts summer whose
The good die first, And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust Burn to the socket
common harvest quiet random round sleeps truths
In common things that round us lieSome random truths he can impart, --The harvest of a quiet eyeThat broods and sleeps on his own heart.
birth deeper impulses
Impulses of deeper birth have come to him in solitude.
form function shall
Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;The Form remains, the Function never dies.
noisy strongest whom
Strongest mindsAre often those of whom the noisy worldHears least.
heaven knows
Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, -- Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where! But in the very world, which is the world Of all of us, -- the place where in the end We find our happiness, or not at all!
cottage evening named
The cottage which was named the Evening Star/ Is gone.
cloud floats golden high lonely saw wandered
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.
gratitude heard hearts left
I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deedsWith coldness still returning;Alas! the gratitude of menHath oftener left me mourning.