William Wordsworth

(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

William Wordsworth Poems

161. Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 Xii. Sonnet Composed At ---- Castle 4/5/2010
162. Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 Xii. Yarrow Unvisited 4/5/2010
163. Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 Xiv. Fly, Some Kind Haringer, To Grasmere-Dale 4/5/2010
164. Memorials Of A Tour Of Scotland, 1803 Vi. Glen-Almain, Or, The Narrow Glen 4/5/2010
165. Memory 1/3/2003
166. Methought I Saw The Footsteps Of A Throne 4/5/2010
167. Michael Angelo In Reply To The Passage Upon His Staute Of Sleeping Night 4/5/2010
168. Michael: A Pastoral Poem 12/31/2002
169. Minstrels 4/5/2010
170. Most Sweet It Is 1/1/2004
171. Mutability 1/4/2003
172. My Heart Leaps Up 1/20/2003
173. November 1813 4/5/2010
174. November, 1806 1/1/2004
175. Nuns Fret Not At Their Convent's Narrow Room 1/3/2003
176. Nutting 12/31/2002
177. O Nightingale! Thou Surely Art 1/3/2003
178. O’er The Wide Earth, On Mountain And On Plain 4/5/2010
179. O’erweening Statesmen Have Full Long Relied 4/5/2010
180. Oak And The Broom, The: A Pastoral Poem 12/31/2002
181. Occasioned By The Battle Of Waterloo February 1816 4/5/2010
182. October, 1803 1/1/2004
183. Ode 4/5/2010
184. Ode Composed On A May Morning 5/17/2001
185. Ode On Intimations Of Immortality From Recollections Of Early Childhood 5/17/2001
186. Ode To Duty 1/4/2003
187. Ode To Lycoris. May 1817 4/5/2010
188. Ode, Composed On A May Morning 12/31/2002
189. On A Celebrated Event In Ancient History 4/5/2010
190. On The Departure Of Sir Walter Scott From Abbotsford 1/1/2004
191. On The Extinction Of The Venetian Republic 1/4/2003
192. On The Final Submission Of The Tyrolese 4/5/2010
193. On The Same Occasion 4/5/2010
194. Perfect Woman 1/4/2003
195. Personal Talk 4/5/2010
196. Peter Bell, A Tale 12/31/2002
197. Pet-Lamb, The: A Pastoral Poem 12/31/2002
198. Picture Of Daniel In The Lion's Den At Hamilton Palace 4/5/2010
199. Power Of Music 4/5/2010
200. Remembrance Of Collins 12/31/2002

Comments about William Wordsworth

  • Reema Kumar (2/25/2012 2:22:00 AM)

    wordsworth is a great poet and i m a great fan of his poems......his every poem has a different feeling..

    372 person liked.
    192 person did not like.
  • Anup Kumar Gupta (1/29/2012 11:23:00 AM)

    Wordsworth was a great nature poet as well as high priset of nature.

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

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

  • 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.

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 Mother's Return

A MONTH, sweet Little-ones, is past
Since your dear Mother went away,---
And she tomorrow will return;
Tomorrow is the happy day.

O blessed tidings! thought of joy!
The eldest heard with steady glee;
Silent he stood; then laughed amain,---
And shouted, ' Mother, come to me!'

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