William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth

born
April 07, 1770 in Cockermouth, Cumberland, England, The United Kingdom

died
April 23, 1850


William Wordsworth was a major English romantic poet who, with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, helped launch the Romantic Age in English literature with their 1798 joint publication, Lyrical Ballads.

Wordsworth's masterpiece is generally considered to be The Prelude, an autobiographical poem of his early years which the poet revised and expanded a number of times. The work was posthumously titled and published, prior to which it was generally known as the poem "to Coleridge". Wordsworth was England's Poet Laureate from 1843 until his death in 1850.


Poetry




“Wisdom is oft-times nearer when we stoop
Than when we soar.”

― William Wordsworth, The Excursion 1814




“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.”

― William Wordsworth




“Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be...”

― William Wordsworth




“I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.




Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.




The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed--and gazed--but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:




For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.”

― William Wordsworth, I Wander'd Lonely as a Cloud






“The best portion of a good man's life: his little, nameless unremembered acts of kindness and love.”

― William Wordsworth




“A word is not the same with one writer as it is with another. One tears it from his guts. The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket.”

― William Wordsworth




“poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility”

― William Wordsworth






“She Was A Phantom of Delight


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 Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;

But all things else about her drawn

From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;

A dancing Shape, an Image gay,

To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.



I saw her upon a nearer view,

A Spirit, yet a Woman too!

Her household motions light and free,

And steps of virgin liberty;

A countenance in which did meet

Sweet records, promises as sweet;

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.



And now I see with eye serene

The very pulse of the machine;

A Being breathing thoughtful breath,

A Traveler between life and death;

The reason firm, the temperate will,

Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;

A perfect Woman, nobly planned,

To warm, to comfort, and command;

And yet a Spirit still, and bright,

With something of angelic light.”

― William Wordsworth






“Nature never did betray, The heart that loved her.”

― William Wordsworth






“What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve 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 the philosophic mind.”

― William Wordsworth, Intimations of Inmortality





“Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.”

― William Wordsworth





“Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.”

― William Wordsworth






“With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.”

― William Wordsworth





“The music in my heart I bore

Long after it was heard no more.”

― William Wordsworth, Great Narrative Poems Of The Romantic Age





“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 glory do we come ”

― William Wordsworth






“There is a comfort in the strenght of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.”

― William Wordsworth





“My heart leaps up when I behold

A Rainbow in the sky:”

― William Wordsworth






“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!

This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,

The winds that will be howling at all hours,

And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,

For this, for everything, we are out of tune;

It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be

A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;

So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,

Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;

Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;

Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.”

― William Wordsworth, The Major Works








“When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign (is) solitude. ”

― William Wordsworth







“Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,

Are a substantial world, both pure and good.

Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,

Our pastime and our happiness will grow.”

― William Wordsworth





“Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home.”

― William Wordsworth







“Be mild, and cleave to gentle things,

thy glory and thy happiness be there.”

― William Wordsworth






“Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive

But to be young was very heaven.”

― William Wordsworth, The Prelude





“The eye - it cannot choose but see;

We cannot bid the ear be still;

Our bodies feel, where'er they be,

Against or with our will.”

― William Wordsworth, Lyrical Ballads







“The child is father of the man:

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety. ”

― William Wordsworth





“Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.”

― William Wordsworth





“Then my heart with pleasure fills

And dances with the daffodils.”

― William Wordsworth





“For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity. ”

― William Wordsworth






“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. ”

― William Wordsworth






“A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?”

― William Wordsworth




“Habit rules the unreflecting herd. ”

― William Wordsworth




“The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.”

― William Wordsworth





“A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.”

― William Wordsworth




“Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge - it is as immortal as the heart of man.”

― William Wordsworth





“One impulse from a vernal wood

May teach you more of man,

Of moral evil and of good,

Than all the ages can.”

― William Wordsworth






“The earth was all before me. With a heart

Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty,

I look about; and should the chosen guide

Be nothing better than a wandering cloud,

I cannot miss my way.”

― William Wordsworth, The Prelude





“Imagination! lifting up itself

Before the eye and progress of my Song

Like and unfather'd vapour; here that Power

In all the might of its endowments, came

Athwart me; I was lost as in a cloud,

Halted without a struggle to break through,

And now recovering to my Soul I say

I recognize they glory; in such strength

Of usurpation, in such visitings

Of awful promise, when the light of sense

Goes out in flashes that have shewn to us

The invisible world, doth Greatness make abode

There harbours whether we be young or old.

Our destiny, our nature, and our home

Is with infinitude, and only there;

With hope it is, hope that can never die,

Effort, and expectation, and desire,

And something evermore about to be.”

― William Wordsworth




“For oft, when on my couch I lie in vacant or in pensive mood they flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude”

― William Wordsworth



“And yet the wiser mind

Mourns less for what age takes away

Than what it leaves behind.”

― William Wordsworth, Selected Poetry





“poetry is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge”

― William Wordsworth, Lyrical Ballads




“Surprised by joy- impatient as the Wind

I turned to share the transport-- Oh! with whom

But thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,

That spot which no vicissitude can find?

Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--

But how could I forget thee? Through what power,

Even for the least division of an hour,

Have I been so beguiled as to be blind

To my most grievous loss? -- That thought's return

Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,

Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,

Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;

That neither present time, nor years unborn

Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.”

― William Wordsworth, The Works of William Wordsworth (Wordsworth Collection)





“Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.”

― William Wordsworth




“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




“I listen'd, motionless and still;

And, as I mounted up the hill,

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.”

― William Wordsworth, The Major Works




“Books! tis a dull and endless strife:

Come, hear the woodland linnet,

How sweet his music! on my life,

There's more of wisdom in it.”

― William Wordsworth, Wordsworth: Poems




“This City now doth like a garment wear

The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,

Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie

Open unto the fields and to the sky;

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.”

― William Wordsworth



“From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.”

― William Wordsworth





“The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.”

― William Wordsworth



“Lines Written In Early Spring


I heard a thousand blended notes,

While in a grove I sate reclined,

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

Bring sad thoughts to the mind.




To her fair works did Nature link

The human soul that through me ran;

And much it grieved my heart to think

What man has made of man.




Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,

The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;

And 'tis my faith that every flower

Enjoys the air it breathes.




The birds around me hopped and played,

Their thoughts I cannot measure:--

But the least motion which they made

It seemed a thrill of pleasure.




The budding twigs spread out their fan,

To catch the breezy air;

And I must think, do all I can,

That there was pleasure there.




If this belief from heaven be sent,

If such be Nature's holy plan,

Have I not reason to lament

What man has made of man?”

― William Wordsworth





“I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills

When all at once I saw a crowd

A host of golden daffodils

Beside the lake beneath the trees

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”

― William Wordsworth, I Wander'd Lonely as a Cloud

 


“Duty were our games.”

― William Wordsworth, The Prelude



“Getting and spending we lay waste our powers.”

― William Wordsworth




“And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.”

― William Wordsworth



“Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.”

― William Wordsworth



“A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.”

― William Wordsworth



“What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind.”

― William Wordsworth, Ode: Intimations Of Immortality From Recollections Of Early Childhood




“Now, in this blank of things, a harmony,

Home-felt, and home-created,comes to heal

That grief for which the senses still supply

Fresh food; for only then, when memory

Is hushed, am I at rest. My Friends! restrain those busy cares that would allay my pain;

Oh! Leave me to myself, nor let me feel

The officious touch that makes me droop again.”

― William Wordsworth





“Sweet is the lore which nature brings,

our meddeling interlect

mis-shapes the beautious forms of things.

we murder to dissect”

― William Wordsworth, Wordsworth's Complete Poetical Works



“What we have loved

Others will love

And we will teach them how.”

― William Wordsworth






“If thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven,

Then, to the measure of that heaven-born light,

Shine, Poet! in thy place, and be content: --

The stars pre-eminent in magnitude,

And they that from the zenith dart their beams,

(Visible though they be to half the earth,

Though half a sphere be conscious of their brightness)

Are yet of no diviner origin,

No purer essence, than the one that burns,

Like an untended watch-fire on the ridge

Of some dark mountain; or than those which seem

Humbly to hang, like twinkling winter lamps,

Among the branches of the leafless trees.

All are the undying offspring of one Sire:

Then, to the measure of the light vouchsafed,

Shine, Poet! in thy place, and be content.”

― William Wordsworth





“Bagian terbaik dari hidup seseorang adalah perbuatan-perbuatan baiknya dan kasihnya yang tidak diketahui orang lain.”

― William Wordsworth






“Is then no nook of English ground secure

From rash assault?”

― William Wordsworth






“He spake of love, such love as spirits feel

In worlds whose course is equable and pure:

No fears to beat away - no strife to heal,

The past unsighed for, and the future sure.”

― William Wordsworth






“He is by nature led

To peace so perfect that the young behold

With envy, what the old man hardly feels.”

― William Wordsworth








“getting and spending, we lay waste our powers ~ but like lemmings running headlong to the sea, we are oblivious.”

― William Wordsworth




“If the time should ever come when what is now called science, thus familiarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the Poet will lend his divine spirit to aid the transfiguration, and will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of the house of man.”

― William Wordsworth




“Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting...”

― William Wordsworth, The Major Works




“What is a Poet? He is a man speaking to men: a man, it is true, endued with more lively sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness, who has a greater knowledge of human nature, and a more comprehensive soul, than are supposed to be common among mankind; a man pleased with his own passions and volitions, and who rejoices more than other men in the spirit of life that is in him; delighting to contemplate similar volitions and passions as manifested in the goings-on of the universe, and habitually impelled to create them where he does not find them.”

― William Wordsworth



“The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest— Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast.”

― William Wordsworth




“The good die first.”

― William Wordsworth




“In ourselves our safety must be sought.

By our own right hand it must be wrought.”

― William Wordsworth



“..........books are yours,

Within whose silent chambers treasure lies

Preserved from age to age; more precious far

Than that accumulated store of gold

And orient gems, which, for a day of need,

The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs.

These hoards of truth you can unlock at will:”

― William Wordsworth







“Thanks to the human heart by which we live,

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and its fears,

To me the meanest flower that blows can give

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.”

― William Wordsworth, Ode: Intimations Of Immortality From Recollections Of Early Childhood




“I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts; 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...”

― William Wordsworth, Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey



“One Lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide,

Taught both by what she shews, and what conceals,

Never to blend our pleasure or our pride

With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.”

― William Wordsworth




“Here must thou be, O man,

Strength to thyself — no helper hast thou here —

Here keepest thou thy individual state:

No other can divide with thee this work,

No secondary hand can intervene

To fashion this ability. 'Tis thine,

The prime and vital principle is thine

In the recesses of thy nature, far

From any reach of outward fellowship,

Else 'tis not thine at all.”

― William Wordsworth, The Prelude





“[...]the stately and slow-moving Turk,

With freight of slippers piled beneath his arm.”

― William Wordsworth, Prelude




“Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream?”

― William Wordsworth





“Where are your books? - that light bequeathed

To beings else forlorn and blind!

Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed

From dead men to their kind.”

― William Wordsworth






“Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind.”

― William Wordsworth, Ode: Intimations Of Immortality From Recollections Of Early Childhood





“Stranger! henceforth be warned; and know that pride,

Howe'er disguised in its own majesty,

Is littleness; that he, who feels contempt

For any living thing, hath faculties

Which he has never used; that thought with him

Is in its infancy...”

― William Wordsworth, Lyrical Ballads




“A deep distress hath humanised my soul.”

― William Wordsworth






“I'd rather be

A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;

So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,

Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;

Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;

Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.”

― William Wordsworth




“...that best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered, acts
Of kindness and of love.”

― William Wordsworth



“But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.
The storm came on before its time:
She wandered up and down;
And many a hill did Lucy climb:
But never reached the town.”

― William Wordsworth, Lyrical Ballads




“How does the meadow-flower its bloom
unfold?
Because the lovely little flower is free
Down to its root, and in that freedom
bold.”

― William Wordsworth




“And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine
A being breathing thoughtful breath
A traveler betwixt life and death
The reason firm the temperate will
Endurance Foresight Strength and skill”

― William Wordsworth




“This son of his old age was yet more dear—

Less from instinctive tenderness, the same

Fond spirit that blindly works in the blood of all— 145

Than that a child, more than all other gifts

That earth can offer to declining man,

Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts,

And stirrings of inquietude, when they

By tendency of nature needs must fail.”

― William Wordsworth




“Though inland far we be,

Our souls have sight of that immortal sea

Which brought us hither.”

― William Wordsworth




“I travelled among unknown men

in lands beyond the sea . . .”

― William Wordsworth