William Wordsworth

(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

William Wordsworth Poems

161. Emperors And Kings, How Oft Have Temples Rung 4/5/2010
162. Michael Angelo In Reply To The Passage Upon His Staute Of Sleeping Night 4/5/2010
163. Book Seventh [residence In London] 4/5/2010
164. Calais, August 1802 4/5/2010
165. And Is It Among Rude Untutored Dales 4/5/2010
166. Feelings Of A French Royalist, On The Disinterment Of The Remains Of The Duke D’enghien 4/5/2010
167. From The Dark Chambers Of Dejection Freed 4/5/2010
168. Composed Near Calais, On The Road Leading To Ardres, August 7, 1802 4/5/2010
169. Avaunt All Specious Pliancy Of Mind 4/5/2010
170. Young England--What Is Then Become Of Old 4/5/2010
171. Composed By The Sea-Side, Near Calais, August 1802 4/5/2010
172. The Simplon Pass 12/31/2002
173. Inscriptions In The Ground Of Coleorton, The Seat Of Sir George Beaumont, Bart., Leicestershire 4/5/2010
174. Methought I Saw The Footsteps Of A Throne 4/5/2010
175. Composed On The Eve Of The Marriage Of A Friend In The Vale Of Grasmere 4/5/2010
176. Is There A Power That Can Sustain And Cheer 4/5/2010
177. The Mother's Return 5/17/2001
178. Hail, Twilight, Sovereign Of One Peaceful Hour 4/5/2010
179. Call Not The Royal Swede Unfortunate 4/5/2010
180. Maternal Grief 4/5/2010
181. Say, What Is Honour?--‘tis The Finest Sense 4/5/2010
182. Book Tenth {residence In France Continued] 4/5/2010
183. Yes! Thou Art Fair, Yet Be Not Moved 4/5/2010
184. To The Cuckoo 5/17/2001
185. Even As A Dragon’s Eye That Feels The Stress 4/5/2010
186. Matthew 4/5/2010
187. Written In Very Early Youth 4/5/2010
188. The Sonnet I 1/4/2003
189. September 1, 1802 4/5/2010
190. Gipsies 4/5/2010
191. At Applewaite, Near Keswick 1804 4/5/2010
192. Artegal And Elidure 4/5/2010
193. The Trosachs 1/4/2003
194. September 1815 4/5/2010
195. Composed In The Valley Near Dover, On The Day Of Landing 4/5/2010
196. Song Of The Spinning Wheel 4/5/2010
197. The Prelude, Book 1: Childhood And School-Time 1/1/2004
198. British Freedom 4/5/2010
199. Repentance 4/5/2010
200. Book Fifth-Books 4/5/2010

Comments about William Wordsworth

  • Arthur Tugman (11/5/2011 4:34:00 PM)

    The child is farthest from the truth
    that yens to outgrow its youth.
    - Arthur Tugman

    336 person liked.
    185 person did not like.
  • Subrata Ray (2/18/2010 8:06:00 AM)

    Wordsworth is not a visionary poet.He lacks the overseeing power of Blake, and exuberance of Shelley's imagination.He is a poet without tradition and self-devoted-labor.
    His hubris is his mind-born theory of poetic creativity as expounded in The Lyrical Ballads.What his spirit-brother Col ridges criticizes comes every -inch true .
    To the average readers he excels, and even the trained and thoughtful minds of literature at their first reading get enamored.This is because of his power of installing justified words and phrases.Moreover, both in riming verse and blank-verse, his art is next to perfection.
    But a true poet is a seer.Here Wordsworth leaves a self-betrayal. His Tin tern Abbey and Intimation Ode, are nothing but fermentation of morbid -emotion.For the poet in reality neither experienced 'Samadhi' or th estate of oneness with the Ultimate -reality or Divinity, and nor could feel the truth that in childhood the instincts remain hidden in the cells.
    His shorter poems like The Daffodils, and The Solitary Reaper, appear packed with relieving ideas.But how can we memorizes the contact of a good-man or a sight of a beauty, when we are only the profit -hunter of our emotional relief? .
    In my childhood innocence I was a fan to Blake and Wordsworth.But now in growing adulthood I earnestly desire to be a child to the station of Blake's The Lamb.In the truest reality, now Wordsworth seems not readable.He is full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
    Subrata Ray.Mousumipara.Uluberia.West Bengal.India.

  • Tanushree Sarkar (2/3/2010 12:44:00 AM)

    This poem speaks about my life..........

  • Maravan Shelley (1/26/2010 2:22:00 AM)

    Wordsworth - a man who absolutely picturised mother nature through his fine words and adored the nature unto the lease. Made the mortals to adore. Poet is still living in every lines of his poetry.
    Community called Pagans, Nature Lovers, are becoming no more nowadays.but this should change
    Everyone should treat nature as equal to mankind and to grow with it.

  • Vandavasu Vittal (8/14/2009 1:06:00 AM)

    You enchant nature with life and woe with bliss. Thine strife is never undo till dear Coleridge died your source of inspiration. your poetry is charming like the flying doves. You are the poetical genius with incessant clout of emotions on paper.

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (5/23/2009 6:34:00 AM)

    i feel deep within a bliss of imagination which flies high with your verses.

  • Aiswarya. T.anish Aiswarya. T.anish (4/18/2009 10:42:00 AM)

    I worship you. Your poems are sooooo beautiful. I love Daffodils. I got first prize in the Recitation competition in school after I recited this poem. You are a master of poetry.

  • Sonya Florentino (12/7/2008 10:51:00 AM)

    I don't understand how people can not like this poem. The only reason I can think of is that they haven't experienced true bliss.. which I think is what this poem is about... bliss that you never forget, which you can always come back to and feel with the same power as when you first experienced it....spiritual bliss. When I read this poem again as an adult, by the time I got to the last two lines, I was crying because he really touched on something so profound.

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (6/14/2008 1:04:00 AM)

    your poems touch the beauty of nature, nature protects us, nature helps us, nature teaches, nature inspires, as a bliss in the solitude.beautiful creations.

  • Lamont Palmer (9/20/2006 3:08:00 PM)

    For a 19th century poet, Wordworth wrote wonderfully modern sounding verse. His 'The Prelude' is a monumental work, which I am always reading. -LP

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 Sparrow's Nest

BEHOLD, within the leafy shade,
Those bright blue eggs together laid!
On me the chance-discovered sight
Gleamed like a vision of delight.
I started---seeming to espy
The home and sheltered bed,
The Sparrow's dwelling, which, hard by
My Father' house, in wet or dry
My sister Emmeline and I

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