Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears. — 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
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
In spite of difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs-in spite of things silently gone out… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains; and of all that we behold from this… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Thou has left behind Powers that will work for thee,-air, earth, and skies! There 's not a breathing of the common wind… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find. — 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
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!- The Poets, who on earth have made… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven; The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour,… — 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
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
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
No motion has she now, no force; she neither hears nor sees; rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones,… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source, The rapt one, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature… — 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
Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Brothers all In honour, as in one community, Scholars and gentlemen. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
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 Image
“Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good.” — 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 one desire… — 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 dead men… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Knowledge and increase of enduring joy From the great Nature that exists in works Of mighty Poets. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
