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William Wordsworth (Writer)

Nor less I deem that there are Powers Which of themselves our minds impress; That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness.
— William Wordsworth mind
Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.
— William Wordsworth light
One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.
— William Wordsworth evil
O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.
— William Wordsworth mind
I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.
— William Wordsworth art
What fond and wayward thoughts will slide Into a lover's head! "O mercy!" to myself I cried, "If Lucy should be dead!"
— William Wordsworth love
She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love:
— William Wordsworth love
She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me!
— William Wordsworth live
Three years she grew in sun and shower, Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower On earth was never sown; This Child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make A Lady of my own."
— William Wordsworth love
A slumber did my spirit seal; I had no human fears: She seemed a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years. No motion has she now, no force; She neither hears nor sees; Rolled round in earth's diurnal course, With rocks, and stones, and trees.
— William Wordsworth fear
The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door!
— William Wordsworth man
And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind.
— William Wordsworth sin
A youth to whom was given So much of earth—so much of heaven, And such impetuous blood.
— William Wordsworth art
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. Thus fares it still in our decay: And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what age takes away Than what it leaves behind.
— William Wordsworth art
Something between a hindrance and a help.
— William Wordsworth help
Drink, pretty creature, drink!
— William Wordsworth
May no rude hand deface it, And its forlorn Hic jacet!
— William Wordsworth
On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye During a Tour, July 13, 1798
— William Wordsworth
Five years have passed; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs With a sweet inland murmur. —Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, Which on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
— William Wordsworth wild
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee!
— William Wordsworth spirit
And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought, With many recognitions dim and faint, And somewhat of a sad perplexity,The picture of the mind revives again: While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts That in this moment there is life and food For future years. And so I dare to hope, Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first I came among these hills;
— William Wordsworth life
For nature then (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, And their glad animal movements all gone by) To me was all in all.— I cannot paint What then I was.
— William Wordsworth nature
The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
— William Wordsworth love
If I should be, where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence, wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together; And that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came, Unwearied in that service: rather say With warmer love, oh! with far deeper zeal Of holier love. Now wilt thou then forget, That after many wanderings, many years Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, And this green pastoral landscape, were to me More dear, both for themselves, and for thy sake.
— William Wordsworth love
A fingering slave, One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
— William Wordsworth mother
A reasoning, self-sufficing thing, An intellectual All-in-all!
— William Wordsworth self
He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
— William Wordsworth music
And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.
— William Wordsworth love
The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
— William Wordsworth art
Quotations are from the 1850 text unless otherwise stated.
— William Wordsworth wise
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.
— William Wordsworth joy
Fair seedtime had my soul, and I grew up Fostered alike by beauty and by fear.
— William Wordsworth fear
Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music; there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.
— William Wordsworth music
The grim shape Towered up between me and the stars, and still, For so it seemed, with purpose of its own And measured motion like a living thing, Strode after me.
— William Wordsworth purpose
Huge and mighty forms, that do not live Like living men, moved slowly through the mind By day, and were a trouble to my dreams.
— William Wordsworth dreams
Where the statue stood Of Newton with his prism and silent face, The marble index of a mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.
— William Wordsworth mind
When from our better selves we have too long Been parted by the hurrying world, and droop, Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, How gracious, how benign, is Solitude.
— William Wordsworth art
A day Spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
— William Wordsworth day
Another morn Risen on mid-noon.
— William Wordsworth
Whether we be young or old, Our destiny, our being's heart and home, Is with infinitude, and only there; With hope it is, hope that can never die, Effort and expectation, and desire, And something evermore about to be.
— William Wordsworth hope
Brothers all In honour, as in one community, Scholars and gentlemen.
— William Wordsworth men
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven!
— William Wordsworth heaven
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
— William Wordsworth
There is One great society alone on earth: The noble Living and the noble Dead.
— William Wordsworth art
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven; The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.
— William Wordsworth art
And stepping westward seemed to be A kind of heavenly destiny.
— William Wordsworth war
I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
— William Wordsworth art
A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.
— William Wordsworth joy
Yet was Rob Roy as wise as brave; Forgive me if the phrase be strong;—A Poet worthy of Rob Roy Must scorn a timid song.
— William Wordsworth wise
Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind; And worse, against ourselves.
— William Wordsworth
The good old rule Sufficeth them, the simple plan, That they should take, who have the power, And they should keep who can.
— William Wordsworth power
The Eagle, he was lord above, And Rob was lord below.
— William Wordsworth
A brotherhood of venerable trees.
— William Wordsworth trees
From Stirling Castle we had seen The mazy Forth unravelled; Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay, And with the Tweed had travelled; And when we came to Clovenford, Then said "my winsome marrow," "Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside, And see the braes of Yarrow."
— William Wordsworth love
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.
— William Wordsworth love
A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.
— William Wordsworth love
And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine.
— William Wordsworth wit
The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command.
— William Wordsworth war
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. Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
— William Wordsworth lonely
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way.
— William Wordsworth stars
Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tosing their heads in sprightly dance.
— William Wordsworth sin
A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company.
— William Wordsworth gay
That inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude.
— William Wordsworth war
Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!
— William Wordsworth god
A light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove.
— William Wordsworth light
Me this unchartered freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance-desires: My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
— William Wordsworth hope
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.
— William Wordsworth heaven
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!
— William Wordsworth truth
Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he That every man in arms should wish to be?
— William Wordsworth man
Who, doomed to go in company with Pain, And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train! Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
— William Wordsworth rain
Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.
— William Wordsworth good
More skillful in self-knowledge, even more pure, As tempted more; more able to endure, As more exposed to suffering and distress.
— William Wordsworth knowledge
But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for human kind, Is happy as a Lover.
— William Wordsworth men
And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.
— William Wordsworth law
Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
— William Wordsworth happiness
As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
— William Wordsworth light
But how can he expect that others should Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?
— William Wordsworth self
I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride; Of Him who walked in glory and in joy Following his plough, along the mountain-side: By our own spirits are we deified: We Poets in our youth begin in gladness; But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
— William Wordsworth joy
That heareth not the loud winds when they call, And moveth all together, if it moves at all.
— William Wordsworth win
Choice word and measured phrase, above the reach Of ordinary men.
— William Wordsworth men
And mighty poets in their misery dead.
— William Wordsworth dead
For the gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
— William Wordsworth god
Mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is Love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favorite seat be feeble woman's breast.
— William Wordsworth strength
Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
— William Wordsworth beauty
He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,— The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
— William Wordsworth love
Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.
— William Wordsworth beauty
Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.
— William Wordsworth hope
Babylon, Learned and wise, hath perished utterly, Nor leaves her speech one word to aid the sigh That would lament her.
— William Wordsworth men
As thou these ashes, little brook! will bear Into the Avon, Avon to the tide Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas, Into main ocean they, this deed accurst, An emblem yields to friends and enemies How the bold teacher's doctrine, sanctified By truth, shall spread throughout the world dispersed.
— William Wordsworth truth
Habit rules the unreflecting herd.
— William Wordsworth rules
The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an Angel's wing.
— William Wordsworth men
Meek Walton's heavenly memory.
— William Wordsworth memory
But who would force the soul tilts with a straw Against a champion cased in adamant.
— William Wordsworth soul
Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore Of nicely calculated less or more.
— William Wordsworth heaven
Where music dwells Lingering and wandering on as loth to die, Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof That they were born for immortality.
— William Wordsworth music
Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope’s perpetual breath.
— William Wordsworth gift
Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!
— William Wordsworth sin
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
— William Wordsworth mind
To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
— William Wordsworth tears
Three sleepless nights I passed in sounding on, Through words and things, a dim and perilous way.
— William Wordsworth words

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101sharequotes Quotes Topics Famous Occupations Motivation Inspirational Life Love Funny Success Friendship