William Wordsworth

(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

William Wordsworth Poems

241. Composed By The Side Of Grasmere Lake 1806 4/5/2010
242. The Reaper 1/3/2003
243. The Fountain 1/3/2003
244. A Prophecy. February 1807 4/5/2010
245. Ode, Composed On A May Morning 12/31/2002
246. Simon Lee: The Old Huntsman 1/1/2004
247. On The Extinction Of The Venetian Republic 1/4/2003
248. The Forsaken 5/17/2001
249. Alice Fell, Or Poverty 4/5/2010
250. To A Sky-Lark 1/3/2003
251. On The Departure Of Sir Walter Scott From Abbotsford 1/1/2004
252. Address To Kilchurn Castle, Upon Loch Awe 4/5/2010
253. The Complaint Of A Forsaken Indian Woman 5/17/2001
254. With How Sad Steps, O Moon, Thou Climb'st The Sky 1/3/2003
255. October, 1803 1/1/2004
256. The Thorn 12/31/2002
257. Written In Germany, On One Of The Coldest Days Of The Century 12/31/2002
258. Address To My Infant Daughter, Dora On Being Reminded That She Was A Month Old That Day, September 1 4/5/2010
259. With Ships The Sea Was Sprinkled 5/17/2001
260. Inside Of King's College Chapel, Cambridge 1/1/2004
261. The Sun Has Long Been Set 1/3/2003
262. In The Pass Of Killicranky 4/5/2010
263. England Iii 1/4/2003
264. Remembrance Of Collins 12/31/2002
265. England Iv 1/4/2003
266. Speak! 1/4/2003
267. It Is Not To Be Thought Of 1/1/2004
268. Admonition 4/5/2010
269. Rural Architecture 12/31/2002
270. I Know An Old Man Constrained To Dwell 1/3/2003
271. Oak And The Broom, The: A Pastoral Poem 12/31/2002
272. November, 1806 1/1/2004
273. England Ii 1/4/2003
274. For The Spot Where The Hermitage Stood On St. Herbert's Island, Derwentwater. 12/31/2002
275. The Old Cumberland Beggar 12/31/2002
276. Ode Composed On A May Morning 5/17/2001
277. Extempore Effusion Upon The Death Of James Hogg 1/1/2004
278. England I 1/4/2003
279. The Reverie Of Poor Susan 12/31/2002
280. Yarrow Revisited 1/1/2004

Comments about William Wordsworth

  • Selim Reza (1/12/2013 4:27:00 AM)

    He is often called the poet of nature. No poet is so successful like him in composing poems on nature.he loved nature.he had the quality of pantieism that is so much familier to us.

    274 person liked.
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  • Sukhzinder Singh (11/1/2012 9:23:00 AM)

    William wordsworth is awesome poet, He loved the nature same nature love him.

  • Pearlsof Poetry (5/19/2012 1:11:00 AM)


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  • 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..

  • 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.

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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