one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Primroses, the Spring may love them; Summer knows but little of them. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The mysteries that cups of flowers infold And all the gorgeous sights which fairies do behold. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
A Primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him And it was something more. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard seat And birds and flowers once more to greet. . . . — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
A primrose by the river's brim A yellow rose was to him. And it was nothing more — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away; less happy… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower,… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Since thy return, through days and weeks Of hope that grew by stealth, How many wan and faded cheeks Have kindled into… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“What though the radiance that was once so bright, be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The primal duties shine aloft, like stars; The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless, Are scattered at the feet of Man,… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I've watched you now a full half-hour; Self-poised upon that yellow flower And, little Butterfly! Indeed I know not if you sleep… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill; The Ploughboy… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The clouds that gather round the setting sun do take a sober colouring from an eye that hath kept watch o'er man's… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Now when the primrose makes a splendid show, And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Their snow-white blossoms on my head, With brightest sunshine round me spread Of spring's unclouded weather,… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trails its wreath; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves; And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Departing summer hath assumed An aspect tenderly illumed, The gentlest look of spring; That calls from yonder leafy shade Unfaded, yet prepared… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The softest breeze to fairest flowers gives birth: Think not that Prudence dwells in dark abodes, She scans the future with the… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride. — William Wordsworth Copy Share
The eye— it cannot choose but see; we cannot bid the ear be still; our bodies feel, where'er they be, against or with our… — William Wordsworth Copy Share
“Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good.” — William Wordsworth Copy Share
Now when the primrose makes a splendid show, And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with one desire… — William Wordsworth Copy Share
“Where are your books? - that light bequeathed To beings else forlorn and blind! Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed From dead men… — William Wordsworth Copy Share
Knowledge and increase of enduring joy From the great Nature that exists in works Of mighty Poets. — William Wordsworth Copy Share
The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears. — William Wordsworth Copy Share
“She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleam'd upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament: Her eyes… — William Wordsworth Copy Share
“If the time should ever come when what is now called science, thus familiarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it… — William Wordsworth Copy Share
I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose… — William Wordsworth Copy Share
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality. — William Wordsworth Copy Share
