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''Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:''
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William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood (l. 58-61). . .
The Poems; Vol...
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''One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.''
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William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. The Tables Turned, st. 6, Lyrical Ballads (1798).
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''Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;''
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William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood (l. 77). . .
The Poems; Vol. 1...
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''No fountain from its rocky cave
E'er tripped with foot so free;
She seemed as happy as a wave
That dances on the sea.''
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William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. The Two April Mornings (l. 49-52). . .
The Poems; Vol. 1 [William Wordsworth]. John O. Hayden, ed. (...
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''Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;''
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William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood (l. 177-180). . .
The Poems; V...
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''The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.''
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William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. "The World is Too Much With Us," Sonnet 33, Miscellaneous Sonnets (1807).
Opening lines.
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Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy Soul's immensity;
Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the ...
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William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood (l. 108-113). . .
The Poems; V...
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''Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.''
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William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. "The World Is Too Much With Us," Miscellaneous Sonnets (1827).
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''The Rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the Rose,''
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William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood (l. 10-11). . .
The Poems; Vol...
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I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the se...
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William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. The World Is Too Much with Us (l. 10-14). . .
The Poems; Vol. 1 [William Wordsworth]. John O. Hayden...
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Stanzas
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WITHIN our happy castle there dwelt One
Whom without blame I may not overlook;
For never sun on living creature shone
Who more devout enjoyment with us took:
Here on his hours he hung as on a book,
On his own time here would he float away,
As doth a fly upon a summer brook;
But go tomorrow, or belike today,
Seek for him,---he is fled; and whither none can say.
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Poets
