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
again gave timely utterance
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,/ And I again am strong.
holy quiet time
The holy time is quiet as a nunBreathless with adoration.
love birthday time
But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.
time sea heaven
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea: Listen! the mighty being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thundereverlastingly.
time yoke
Delivered from the galling yoke of time.
time lying boys
Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.
time past years
The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.
birthday wise time
The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away; than what it leaves behind.
time hair crime
That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.
time stars twilight
She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
time quiet holy
The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
time moving scene
On a fair prospect some have looked, And felt, as I have heard them say, As if the moving time had been A thing as steadfast as the scene On which they gazed themselves away.
strength sympathy time
That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
bosom sea sleeping winds
The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;The winds that will be howling at all hours,And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;For this, for everything, we are out of tune.