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
years yoke inevitable
Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
years mind philosophic
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
time past years
The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.
flower years may
Since thy return, through days and weeks Of hope that grew by stealth, How many wan and faded cheeks Have kindled into health! The Old, by thee revived, have said, 'Another year is ours;' And wayworn Wanderers, poorly fed, Have smiled upon thy flowers.
spring years snow
Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snow-drop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
flower home years
Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
nature heart years
Knowing that Nature never did betray the heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, through all the years of this our life, to lead from joy to joy.
years victory age
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.
years silence moments
Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
nature years feels
She seemed a thing that could not feel the touch of earthly years.
years joy enough
We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
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.
beside poet waves
The waves beside them danced; but they/ Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:/ A poet could not but be gay,/ In such a jocund company.
draws feels life lightly simple
A simple child,That lightly draws its breath,And feels its life in every limb,What should it know of death?