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
And suddenly all your troubles melt away, all your worries are gone, and it is for no reason other than the look… — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves; And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives. — William Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who… — 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
A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death? — 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
