William Wordsworth

(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

William Wordsworth Poems

Comments about William Wordsworth

  • Maybee (2/8/2019 11:08:00 AM)

    Well his poetry helped j.s.mill emerge from depression...

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  • Tanvee (1/29/2019 5:52:00 AM)

    William Worsworth is a great man.His quotes ,poems everything is mind blowing,

  • ghost (1/24/2019 8:59:00 AM)

    William wordsworh is a very good poet.

  • dylan (1/23/2019 3:56:00 AM)

    cool work by william wordsworth

  • sanskriti acharya (1/17/2019 6:42:00 AM)

    really mr wordsworth and his pems and quotes are likely. I really love it

  • Devil memon (1/10/2019 11:20:00 PM)

    This poem was extremely well Good

  • Dr. antony (1/10/2019 9:59:00 AM)

    my neighbor's mother makes $64 hourly on the laptop. She has been out of work for five months but last month her payment was $15080 just working on the laptop for a few hours. Go to this web site and read more.........

  • Lorna Malla (1/10/2019 9:39:00 AM)

    Although you are no more your words still live on in poetry you will all way be my favourite poet

  • Asloob (1/10/2019 8:44:00 AM)

    The greatest poet i like is Willam

  • keeny (1/9/2019 10:18:00 AM)


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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