William Wordsworth

"Wisdom and spirit of the Universe! Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought! And giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion! Not in vain By day or star-light thus from by first dawn Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me The passions that build up our human soul, Not with the mean and vulgar works of man, But with high objects, with enduring things, With life and nature, purifying thus The elements of feeling and of thought, And sanctifying, by such discipline Both pain and fear, until we recognize A grandeur in the beatings of the heart.#"

"A cheerful life is what the Muses love, A soaring spirit is their prime delight."

"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!"

"Much converse do I find in thee, Historian of my infancy! Float near me; do not yet depart! Dead times revive in thee: Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art! A solemn image to my heart."

"Behold, within the leafy shade, Those bright blue eggs together laid! On me the chance-discovered sight Gleamed like a vision of delight."

"She gave me eyes, she gave me ears; And humble cares,and delicate fears; A heart, the fountain of sweet tears; And love, and thought, and joy."

"Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath."

"Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill; The Ploughboy is whooping—anon—anon! There's joy in the mountains: There's life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone."

"My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety."

"Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air."

"Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!"

"Rapine, avarice, expense This is idolatry; and these we adore: Plain living and high thinking are no more: The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws."

"O for a single hour of that Dundee, Who on that day the word of onset gave!"

"Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet."

"Sweet childish days, that were as long As twenty days are now."

"Hail to thee, far above the rest In joy of voice and pinion! Thou, linnet! in thy green array, Presiding spirit here to-day, Dost lead the revels of the May; And this is thy dominion."

"There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore."

"Of vast circumference and gloom profound, This solitary Tree! A living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed."

"Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through."

"O Blithe newcomer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice. O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice?"

"No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery."

"Thou unassuming Common-place Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace, Which Love makes for thee!"

"Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose types of things through all degrees."

"The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the poet's dream."

"Dear Child of Nature, let them rail!"

"Thou, while thy babes around thee cling, Shalt show us how divine a thing A Woman may be made."

"But an old age serene and bright, And lovely as a Lapland night, Shall lead thee to thy grave."

"She hath smiles to earth unknown— Smiles that with motion of their own Do spread, and sink, and rise."

"Like—but oh, how different!"

"In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is."

"I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee."

"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 less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn."

"Where lies the Land to which yon Ship must go? Fresh as a lark mounting at break of day, Festively she puts forth in trim array."

"Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!"

"Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow."

"Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished."

"It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea."

"Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year; And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not."

"Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee; And was the safeguard of the west: the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty."

"Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great, is passed away."

"Thou has left behind Powers that will work for thee,—air, earth, and skies! There 's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind."

"Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters."

"Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness."

"We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held."

"He sang of love, with quiet blending, Slow to begin, and never ending; Of serious faith, and inward glee; That was the song,—the song for me!"

"Two Voices are there; one is of the sea, One of the mountains; each a mighty Voice."

"Love had he found in huts where poor men lie; His daily teachers had been woods and rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills."

"Action is transitory—a step, a blow— The motion of a muscle—this way or that— 'Tis done; and in the after-vacancy We wonder at ourselves like men betrayed."

"A few strong instincts and a few plain rules, Among the herdsmen of the Alps, have wrought More for mankind at this unhappy day Then all the pride of intellect and thought?"

"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart."