When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow Park we saw a few daffodils close to the waterside. But as we went along there were more and yet more and at last under the boughs of the trees, we saw… — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I never saw daffodils so beautiful. They grew among the mossy stones about and above them; some rested their heads upon these stones, as on a pillow, for weariness. — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The columbine ... is a graceful slender creature, a female seeking retirement, and growing freest and most graceful where it is most alone. I… — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Every question was like the snapping of a little thread about my heart. — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow Park we saw a few daffodils close to the waterside. But as we went along there… — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I found a strawberry blossom in a rock. I uprooted it rashly and felt as if I had been committing an outrage, so I… — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I never saw daffodils so beautiful. They grew among the mossy stones about and above them; some rested their heads upon these stones, as… — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I think one of the dullest things in the world is a letter filled with apologies for not writing sooner. — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I found a strawberry blossom in a rock. The little slender flower had more courage than the green leaves, for they were but half… — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
It is a pleasure to a real lover of Nature to give winter all the glory he can, for summer will make its own… — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I've been a dweller on the plains, have sighed when summer days were gone; No more I'll sigh; for winter here Hath gladsome gardens… — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
Upon the highest ridge of that round hill covered with planted oaks, the shafts of the trees show in the light like the columns… — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
I went through the fields, and sat for an hour afraid to pass a cow. The cow looked at me, and I looked at… — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
The days are cold, the nights are long, The North wind sings a doleful song; Then hush again upon my breast; All merry things… — Dorothy Wordsworth Copy Share Image
