Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
As in the eye of Nature he has lived, So in the eye of Nature let him die! — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history? — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And has the nature of infinity.” — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
With Nature never do they wage A foolish strife; they see A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
In heaven above, And earth below, they best can serve true gladness Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Knowing that Nature never did betray the heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, through all the years of this our life,… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Serene will be our days, and bright and happy will our nature be, when love is an unerring light, and joy its… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Fair trains of images before me rise, Accompanied… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
A soul so pitiably forlorn, If such do on this earth abide, May season apathy with scorn, May turn indifference to pride;… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“This son of his old age was yet more dear— Less from instinctive tenderness, the same Fond spirit that blindly works in… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect. Enough of… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Laying out grounds... may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting… it is to assist Nature… — 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
To the solid ground Of Nature trusts the mind which builds for aye. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise,O Nature! we are thine. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears,… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things: We murder to dissect. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Sweet is the lore which nature brings, our meddeling interlect mis-shapes the beautious forms of things. we murder to dissect — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in… — 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
The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about; and should the… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Let the moon shine on the in thy solitary walk; and let the misty mountain-winds be free to blow against thee. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“Sweet is the lore which nature brings; Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things— We murder to dissect.” — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial… — 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
