Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Laying out grounds may be considered a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting. — 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
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
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
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
Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower, We will grieve not, rather… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and its fears, To me the meanest… — 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
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 which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back… — 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
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
“Splendour in the Grass What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though… — 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
