William Wordsworth

(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

William Wordsworth Quotes

  • ''It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
    The holy time is quiet as a Nun
    Breathless with adoration;''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. It Is a Beauteous Evening (l. 1-3). . . The Poems; Vol. 1 [William Wordsworth]. John O. Hayden, ed. (1977, repr. 1990) Penguin Books.
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  • ''Or hast been summoned to the deep,
    Thou, thou and all thy mates, to keep
    An incommunicable sleep.''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. The Affliction of Margaret (l. 54-56). . . English Romantic Poetry and Prose. Russell Noyes, ed. (1956) Oxford University Press.
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  • ''Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year;
    And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine,
    God being with thee when we know it not.''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. It Is a Beauteous Evening (l. 12-14). . . The Poems; Vol. 1 [William Wordsworth]. John O. Hayden, ed. (1977, repr. 1990) Penguin Books.
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  • ''My apprehensions come in crowds;
    I dread the rustling of the grass;
    The very shadows of the clouds
    Have power to shake me as they pass:''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. The Affliction of Margaret (l. 64-67). . . English Romantic Poetry and Prose. Russell Noyes, ed. (1956) Oxford University Press.
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  • ''We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
    That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
    Which Milton held.''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. It Is Not to Be Thought Of (l. 11-13). . . English Romantic Poetry and Prose. Russell Noyes, ed. (1956) Oxford University Press.
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  • ''Where art thou, my beloved Son,
    Where art thou, worse to me than dead?''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. The Affliction of Margaret (l. 1-2). . . English Romantic Poetry and Prose. Russell Noyes, ed. (1956) Oxford University Press.
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  • ''I travelled among unknown men,
    In lands beyond the sea;
    Nor, England! did I know till then
    What love I bore to thee.''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. I Travelled Among Unknown Men (written 1801, published in Poems in Two Volumes, 1807).
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  • ''Not Chaos, not
    The darkest pit of lowest Erebus,
    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. The Excursion, preface (ed. 1814).
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  • ''Three years she grew in sun and shower,
    Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flower
    On earth was never sown;
    This Child I to myself will take;''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. IV. Three years she grew in sun and shower (l. 1-4). . ; from LUCY The Poems; Vol. 1 [William Wordsworth]. John O. Hayden, ed. (1977, repr. 1990) Penguin Books.
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  • ''Mark the babe
    Not long accustomed to this breathing world;
    One that hath barely learned to shape a smile,
    Though yet irrational of soul, to grasp
    With tiny finger—to let fall a tear;
    And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves,
    To stretch his limbs, bemocking, as might seem,
    The outward functions of intelligent man.''
    William Wordsworth (1770-1850), British poet. The Excursion, bk. 5.
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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

A Complaint

There is a change--and I am poor;
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
A fountain at my fond heart's door,
Whose only business was to flow;
And flow it did; not taking heed
Of its own bounty, or my need.

What happy moments did I count!
Blest was I then all bliss above!

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