“The music in my heart I bore Long after it was heard no more.” — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone. — 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
I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“I listen'd, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The moving accident is not my trade; To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Two voices are there: one is of the deep; It learns the storm-cloud's thunderous melody, Now roars, now murmurs with the changing… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she… — 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
