Everything is tedious when one does not read with the feeling of the Author. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Primroses, the Spring may love them; Summer knows but little of them. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
While all the future, for thy purer soul, With "sober certainties" of love is blest. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Fiction; inner thoughts of Elisha True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats,… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
But how can he expect that others should Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Love him, who for… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
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
O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive! — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The best portion of a good man's life is his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else Would overset the brain, or break… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
She gave me eyes, she gave me ears; And humble cares, and delicate fears; A heart, the fountain of sweet tears; And… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind; And worse, against ourselves. — 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
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
He loves not well whose love is bold! I would not have thee come too nigh. The sun's gold would not seem… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away; less happy… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour; And if, as toward the… — 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 sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, An appetite; a… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“ She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind I turned to share the transport—Oh! with whom But thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,… — 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
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
