Quotes
Quotes - Wordsworth
Much converse do I find in thee, Historian of my infancy! Float near me; do not yet depart! Dead times revive in thee: Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art! A solemn image to my heart.
A cheerful life is what the Muses love, A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
The child is father of the man.
The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising: There are forty feeding like one!
List--'twas the cuckoo--O, with what delight Heard I that voice! and catch it now, though faint, Far off and faint, and melting into air, Yet not to be mistaken. Hark again! Those louder cries give notice that the bird, Although invisible as Echo's self, Is wheeling hitherward.
O blithe New-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice; O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice?
A host of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Bright flowers, whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy and sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
The poet's darling.
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
Thou unassuming Commonplace Of Nature.
The bane of all that dread the Devil!
As thou these ashes, little brook! will bear Into the Avon, Avon to the tide Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas, Into main ocean they, this deed accurst, An emblem yields to friends and enemies How the bold teacher's doctrine, sanctified By truth, shall spread throughout the world dispersed.
I heard a Stock-dove sing or say His homely tale, this very day; His voice was buried among trees, Yet to be come at by the breeze: He did not cease; but cooed--and cooed: And somewhat pensively he wooed: He sang of love, with quiet blending, Slow to begin, and never ending; Of serious faith, and inward glee; That was the song,--the song for me!
Huge and mighty forms that do not live like living men, moved slowly through the mind by day and were trouble to my dreams.
The primal duties shine aloft, like stars; The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless Are scattered at the feet of Man, like flowers.
Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give; And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live!
Stern Daughter of the Voice of God.
Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove.
Like--but oh! how different!
The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration.
And hear the mighty stream of tendency Uttering, for elevation of our thought, A clear sonorous voice, inaudible To the vast multitude.
Faith is a passionate intuition.
Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness.
Sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.
