The following 98 quotes match your criteria:
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Oh, be wiser thou!
Instructed that true knowledge leads to love. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
And homeless near a thousand homes I stood,
And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Action is transitory,—a step, a blow;
The motion of a muscle, this way or that. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Three sleepless nights I passed in sounding on,
Through words and things, a dim and perilous way. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
A simple child
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death? |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
O Reader! had you in your mind
Such stores as silent thought can bring,
O gentle Reader! you would find
A tale in everything. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
I ’ve heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds
With coldness still returning;
Alas! the gratitude of men
Hath oftener left me mourning. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
And ’t is my faith, that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Nor less I deem that there are Powers
Which of themselves our minds impress;
That we can feed this mind of ours
In a wise passiveness. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Up! up! my friend, and quit your books,
Or surely you ’ll grow double!
Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks!
Why all this toil and trouble? |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
That best portion of a good man’s life,—
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
That blessed mood,
In which the burden of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
The fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite,—a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm
By tho |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
A sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man,—
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
As in the eye of Nature he has lived,
So in the eye of Nature let him die! |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
There ’s something in a flying horse,
There ’s something in a huge balloon. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
The common growth of Mother Earth
Suffices me,—her tears, her mirth,
Her humblest mirth and tears. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Full twenty times was Peter feared,
For once that Peter was respected. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
A primrose by a river’s brim
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
The soft blue sky did never melt
Into his heart; he never felt
The witchery of the soft blue sky! |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
On a fair prospect some have looked,
And felt, as I have heard them say,
As if the moving time had been
A thing as steadfast as the scene
On which they gazed themselves away. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
As if the man had fixed his face,
In many a solitary place,
Against the wind and open sky! |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,—
A maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye;
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and oh
The difference to me! |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
She gave me eyes, she gave me ears;
And humble cares, and delicate fears;
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears;
And love and thought and joy. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one! |
| The Cock is crowing.
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Often have I sighed to measure
By myself a lonely pleasure,—
Sighed to think I read a book,
Only read, perhaps, by me. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
As high as we have mounted in delight,
In our dejection do we sink as low. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
But how can he expect that others should
Build for him, sow for him, and at his call
Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all? |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy,
The sleepless soul that perished in his pride;
Of him who walked in glory and in joy,
Following his plough, along the mountain-side.
By our own spirits we are deified;
We Poets in our youth begin |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
That heareth not the loud winds when they call,
And moveth all together, if it moves at all. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Choice word and measured phrase above the reach
Of ordinary men. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will;
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still! |
| Earth has not anything to show more fair.
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade
Of that which once was great is passed away. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Thou has left behind
Powers that will work for thee,—air, earth, and skies!
There ’s not a breathing of the common wind
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies;
Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
And love, and man’s |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
He murmurs near the running brooks
A music sweeter than their own. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
And you must love him, ere to you
He will seem worthy of your love. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
The harvest of a quiet eye,
That broods and sleeps on his own heart. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Yet sometimes, when the secret cup
Of still and serious thought went round,
It seemed as if he drank it up,
He felt with spirit so profound. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
And often, glad no more,
We wear a face of joy because
We have been glad of yore. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Until a man might travel twelve stout miles,
Or reap an acre of his neighbor’s corn. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
“A jolly place,” said he, “in times of old!
But something ails it now: the spot is cursed.” |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Plain living and high thinking are no more.
The homely beauty of the good old cause
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,
And pure religion breathing household laws. |
| O, Friend! I know not which way I must look.
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Milton! thou should’st be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee!
. . . . . .
Thy soul w |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
We must be free or die who speak the tongue
That Shakespeare spake, the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Oft on the dappled turf at ease
I sit, and play with similes,
Loose type of things through all degrees. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven
This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven;
The rueful conflict, the heart riven
With vain endeavour,
And memory of Earth’s bitter leaven
Effaced forever. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain
That has been, and may be again. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice;
Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,
Frozen by distance. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Because the good old rule
Sufficeth them,—the simple plan,
That they should take who have the power,
And they should keep who can. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Let beeves and home-bred kine partake
The sweets of Burn-mill meadow;
The swan on still St. Mary’s Lake
Float double, swan and shadow! |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Every gift of noble origin
Is breathed upon by Hope’s perpetual breath. |
| These Times strike Monied Worldlings.
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
Oh for a single hour of that Dundee
Who on that day the word of onset gave! |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight,
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment’s ornament;
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair,
Like twilights too her dusky hair,
But all things else about her drawn
Fr |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature’s daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command. |
|
|
| Author: William Wordsworth |
To be a Prodigal’s favourite,—then, worse truth,
A Miser’s pensioner,—behold our lot! |
|
|
|
