Wordsworth, William (1770-1850), 19th century English romantic poet and poet laureate of England (1843–50).
"Poetry is the image of man and nature."
"Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge : it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all science."
"Poetry is first and last of all knowledge: it is as immortal as the heart of man."
"For all good poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: and though this be true, Poems to which any value can be attached were never produced on any variety of subjects but by a man who, being possessed of more than usual organic sensibility, had also though long and deeply."
"That best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love."
"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;
The Soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of grory do we come
From God, who is our home:"
"The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!"
"She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleam'd upon my sight;
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament."
"What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be not forever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
Grief not, rather find,
Strength in what remains behind,
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be,
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of Human suffering,
In the faith that looks through death
In years that bring philophic mind."
"Wisdom and spirit of the Universe!
Thou soul is the eternity of thought!
That giv'st to forms and images a breath
And everlasting motion! Not in vain
By day or star-light thus from by first dawn
Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me
The passions that build up our human soul,
Not with the mean and vulgar works of man,
But with high objects, with enduring things,
With life and nature, purifying thus
The elements of feeling and of thought,
And sanctifying, by such discipline
Both pain and fear, until we recognize
A grandeur in the beatings of the heart."
"That Life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vacation
Were endless imitation."
"In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guarding of my heart, and soul.
Of all my moral being."
"Poetry is the image of man and nature."
~William Wordsworth, Preface to the Lyrical Ballads
"Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge : it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all science."
~William Wordsworth, Preface to the Lyrical Ballads
"Poetry is first and last of all knowledge: it is as immortal as the heart of man."
~William Wordsworth, Preface to the Lyrical Ballads
"For all good poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: and though this be true, Poems to which any value can be attached were never produced on any variety of subjects but by a man who, being possessed of more than usual organic sensibility, had also though long and deeply."
~William Wordsworth, Preface to the Lyrical Ballads
"That best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love."
~William Wordsworth
"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;
The Soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of grory do we come
From God, who is our home:"
~William Wordsworth, Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
"The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!"
~William Wordsworth, The World is Too Much With Us
"She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleam'd upon my sight;
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament."
~William Wordsworth
"What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be not forever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
Grief not, rather find,
Strength in what remains behind,
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be,
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of Human suffering,
In the faith that looks through death
In years that bring philophic mind."
~William Wordsworth
"Wisdom and spirit of the Universe!
Thou soul is the eternity of thought!
That giv'st to forms and images a breath
And everlasting motion! Not in vain
By day or star-light thus from by first dawn
Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me
The passions that build up our human soul,
Not with the mean and vulgar works of man,
But with high objects, with enduring things,
With life and nature, purifying thus
The elements of feeling and of thought,
And sanctifying, by such discipline
Both pain and fear, until we recognize
A grandeur in the beatings of the heart."
~William Wordsworth
"That Life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vacation
Were endless imitation."
~William Wordsworth, Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
"In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guarding of my heart, and soul.
Of all my moral being."
~William Wordsworth, Tintern Abbey
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