William Wordsworth Quotes, Sea Quotes, Voice Quotes

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.

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Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.

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Nature's old felicities.

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Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind; And worse, against ourselves.

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The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive!

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Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.

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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 in gladness, But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.

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Tags : William Wordsworth Quotes , Pride Quotes , Boys Quotes

On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Fair trains of images before me rise, Accompanied by feelings of delight Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed.

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Wisdom sits with children round her knees.

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Be mild, and cleave to gentle things, thy glory and thy happiness be there.

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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.

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Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there, one of a mighty multitude whose way and motion is a harmony and dance magnificent.

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Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.

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Sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.

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That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.

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The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.

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And when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet; whence he blew Soul-animating strains,-alas! too few.

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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.

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Tags : William Wordsworth Quotes , Life Quotes , Peace Quotes

Since thy return, through days and weeks Of hope that grew by stealth, How many wan and faded cheeks Have kindled into health! The Old, by thee revived, have said, 'Another year is ours;' And wayworn Wanderers, poorly fed, Have smiled upon thy flowers.

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Oh, blank confusion! true epitome Of what the mighty City is herself, To thousands upon thousands of her sons, Living amid the same perpetual whirl Of trivial objects, melted and reduced To one identity.

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