William Wordsworth

(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

William Wordsworth Poems

201. Book Fifth-Books 4/5/2010
202. Yes, It Was The Mountain Echo 4/5/2010
203. Louisa: After Accompanying Her On A Mountain Excursion 4/5/2010
204. Valedictory Sonnet To The River Duddon 1/4/2003
205. 'Tis Said, That Some Have Died For Love 1/1/2004
206. To A Sexton 12/31/2002
207. To A Highland Girl (At Inversneyde, Upon Loch Lomond) 1/1/2004
208. September 1, 1802 4/5/2010
209. The Prelude, Book 1: Childhood And School-Time 1/1/2004
210. Gipsies 4/5/2010
211. Alas! What Boots The Long Laborious Quest 4/5/2010
212. Song At The Feast Of Brougham Castle Upon The Restoration O 1/1/2004
213. Song For The Wandering Jew 12/31/2002
214. September, 1819 1/1/2004
215. The Virgin 1/1/2004
216. Incident Characteristic Of A Favorite Dog 4/5/2010
217. Bothwell Castle 4/5/2010
218. To Joanna 12/31/2002
219. The French Revolution As It Appeared To Enthusiasts 1/1/2004
220. Minstrels 4/5/2010
221. Characteristics Of A Child Three Years Old 4/5/2010
222. Book Eighth: Retrospect--Love Of Nature Leading To Love Of Man 4/5/2010
223. The Green Linnet 5/17/2001
224. Yew-Trees 4/5/2010
225. Fidelity 4/5/2010
226. Beggars 4/5/2010
227. Ah! Where Is Palafox? Nor Tongue Nor Pen 4/5/2010
228. The Sparrow's Nest 5/17/2001
229. The Two April Mornings 12/31/2002
230. The Two Thieves 12/31/2002
231. Anticipation, October 1803 4/5/2010
232. Indignation Of A High-Minded Spaniard 4/5/2010
233. The Reaper 1/3/2003
234. Alice Fell, Or Poverty 4/5/2010
235. Composed While The Author Was Engaged In Writing A Tract Occasioned By The Convention Of Cintra 4/5/2010
236. Argument For Suicide 1/14/2015
237. Advance – Come Forth From Thy Tyrolean Ground 4/5/2010
238. Stanzas 5/17/2001
239. Composed By The Side Of Grasmere Lake 1806 4/5/2010
240. Power Of Music 4/5/2010

Comments about William Wordsworth

  • Anup Kumar Gupta (1/29/2012 11:23:00 AM)

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

    311 person liked.
    134 person did not like.
  • 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.

  • 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.

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)


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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