She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Primroses, the Spring may love them; Summer knows but little of them. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snow-drop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years! — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
"What is good for a bootless bene?" With these dark words begins my tale; And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring… — 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
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
Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my casement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring.… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I am already kindly disposed towards you. My friendship it is not in my power to give: this is a gift which… — 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
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
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
