William Wordsworth

(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

William Wordsworth Quotes

  • ''No master spirit, no determined road;
    But equally a want of books and men!''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Great Men Have Been among Us (l. 13-14). . . The Poems; Vol. 1 [William Wordsworth]. John O. Hayden, ed. (1977, repr. 1990) Penguin Books.
    9 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • ''And mighty poets in their misery dead.''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Resolution and Independence (l. 116). . . The Poems; Vol. 1 [William Wordsworth]. John O. Hayden, ed. (1977, repr. 1990) Penguin Books.
    7 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
  • ''Great men have been among us; hands that penn'd
    And tongues that utter'd wisdom—better none:''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Great Men Have Been among Us (l. 1-2). . . The Poems; Vol. 1 [William Wordsworth]. John O. Hayden, ed. (1977, repr. 1990) Penguin Books.
    7 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • ''The good old rule
    Sufficeth them, the simple plan,
    That they should take, who have the power,
    And they should keep who can.''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Rob Roy's Grave, st. 9, Poems in Two Volumes (1807).
    7 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
  • ''The darkest pit
    Of the profoundest hell, chaos, night,
    Nor aught of blinder vacancy scooped out
    By help of dreams can breed such fear and awe
    As fall upon us often when we look
    Into our minds, into the mind of man.''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Home at Grasmere (written 1800), published as The Recluse (1888).
    7 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
  • ''He told of the Magnolia, spread
    High as a cloud, high over head!
    The Cypress and her spire;
    MOf flowers that with one scarlet gleam
    Cover a hundred leagues, and seem
    To set the hills on fire.''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Ruth; or, The Influences of Nature (l. 61-66). . . The Poems; Vol. 1 [William Wordsworth]. John O. Hayden, ed. (1977, repr. 1990) Penguin Books.
    6 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • ''Is there not
    An art, a music, and a stream of words
    That shalt be life, the acknowledged voice of life?''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Home at Grasmere, l. 620-2 (written 1800, published as The Recluse 1888).
    11 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • ''Among the Indians he had fought;
    And with him many tales he brought
    Of pleasure and of fear;
    Such tales as told to any Maid
    By such a Youth, in the green shade,
    Were perilous to hear.''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Ruth; or, The Influences of Nature (l. 43-48). . . The Poems; Vol. 1 [William Wordsworth]. John O. Hayden, ed. (1977, repr. 1990) Penguin Books.
    8 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • ''Happier of happy though I be, like them
    I cannot take possession of the sky,
    Mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there,
    One of a mighty multitude whose way
    And motion is a harmony and dance
    Magnificent.''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Home at Grasmere, l. 287-92 (written 1800, published as The Recluse 1888).
    8 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • ''Milton, in his hand
    The thing became a trumpet;''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. Scorn not the sonnet; critic, you have frowned. . . The Poems; Vol. 2 [William Wordsworth]. John O. Hayden, ed. (1977, repr. 1989) Penguin Books.
    7 person liked.
    2 person did not like.

Read more quotations »
Best Poem of William Wordsworth

The World Is Too Much With Us; Late And Soon

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune,
It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me...

Read the full of The World Is Too Much With Us; Late And Soon

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!'