Poetry is most just to its divine origin, when it administers the comforts and breathes the thoughts of religion. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy… — 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
in the mind of man, A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Yet sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up, He… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“Where are your books? - that light bequeathed To beings else forlorn and blind! Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed From… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Plain living and high thinking are no more. The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour; And if, as toward the… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away,… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“ A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal A slumber did my spirit seal; I had no human fears: She seemed a thing… — 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
I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
. . .this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 't is her privilege, Through… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music; there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements,… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is the countenance of all science.” — 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
