Primroses, the Spring may love them; Summer knows but little of them. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Alas! how little can a moment show Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays: A face o'er which… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory; Long as there are violets, They will have a place… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee… — 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
As thou these ashes, little brook, wilt bear Into the Avon, Avon to the tide Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas,… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I've watched you now a full half-hour; Self-poised upon that yellow flower And, little Butterfly! Indeed I know not if you sleep… — 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
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind,… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in… — 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
