William Wordsworth

(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

Comments about William Wordsworth

  • Mohammad Kaleem (11/19/2018 9:49:00 AM)

    William Wordsworth is the greatest poet

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Sandeep kr singh (11/14/2018 8:18:00 AM)

    It is very good

  • David disouza (11/11/2018 12:01:00 AM)

    I love your poems

  • hi mcjackson (11/10/2018 8:01:00 AM)

    hi, i am a person saying that he is good

  • Lubna yakub (11/2/2018 9:16:00 AM)

    Very good poet

  • Bhagabat Prasad Hotta Bhagabat Prasad Hotta (11/1/2018 9:29:00 PM)

    William wordsworth is a great poet in the earth..........

  • wally (10/24/2018 10:04:00 PM)

    looking for his poem about a man who always looks at the ground

  • Sameer yadav (10/24/2018 7:17:00 PM)

    Verry Good websider in world

  • Risha. V. Reddy (10/15/2018 1:41:00 AM)

    Give me some idea of English project prepared to Poems by Flashcards song of bonus

  • srujan (10/11/2018 6:20:00 AM)

    you can also upload all the other poets, poems, poetry E-books that other authers wrote
    like Grid Blyton, ext

Best Poem of William Wordsworth

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud (Daffodils)

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.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

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:
I ...

Read the full of I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud (Daffodils)

The Trosachs

THERE 's not a nook within this solemn Pass,
   But were an apt confessional for one
   Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone,
That Life is but a tale of morning grass
Wither'd at eve. From scenes of art which chase
   That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes
   Feed it 'mid Nature's old felicities,
Rocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than glass
Untouch'd, unbreathed upon. Thrice happy quest,

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