Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In… — 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
What is a Poet? He is a man speaking to men: a man, it is true, endued with more lively sensibility, more… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone. — 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
It may be safely affirmed that there neither is, nor can be, any essential difference between the language of prose and metrical… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Careless of books, yet having felt the power Of Nature, by the gentle agency Of natural objects, led me on to feel… — 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
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
The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses A six years' Darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own… — 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
