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
But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise,O Nature! we are thine. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about; and should the… — 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
“There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“ Upon Westminster Bridge Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by… — 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
I would stand, If the night blackened with a coming storm, Beneath some rock, listening to notes that are The ghostly language… — 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
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
Laying out grounds... may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.... it is to assist Nature… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source, The rapt one, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
“The sky is low, the clouds are mean, A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
A soul so pitiably forlorn, If such do on this earth abide, May season apathy with scorn, May turn indifference to pride;… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to… — 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
