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
This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
And when the stream Which overflowed the soul was passed away, A consciousness remained that it had left Deposited upon the silent… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
True dignity abides with him alone Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, Can still suspect, and still revere himself, In… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
..........books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age; more precious far Than that accumulated store of… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Where the statue stood Of Newton, with his prism and silent face, The marble index of a mind forever Voyaging through strange… — 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
