William Wordsworth Quotes
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Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.
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A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.
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Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my casement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring. * * * * * Then, little Bird, this boon confer, Come, and my requiem sing, Nor fail to be the harbinger Of everlasting spring.
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We murder to dissect.
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"What is good for a bootless bene?" With these dark words begins my tale; And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
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I'm not talking about a "show me other walls of this thing" button, I mean a "stumble" button for wallbase.
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The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves; And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives.
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And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.
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Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
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To character and success, two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together... humble dependence on God and manly reliance on self.
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A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.
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Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present, to live better in the future.
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.
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He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,- The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
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Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!
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By happy chance we saw A twofold image: on a grassy bank A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood Another and the same!
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Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
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... and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
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She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.