William Wordsworth

7 Apr 1770 // 23 Apr 1850


Next >>

Truths that wake,
To perish never.
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose.
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction.
At length the man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither.
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.
Next >>


On Anger: "For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind."
On Destiny: "Our destiny exercises its influence over us even when, as yet, we have not learned its nature: it is our future that lays down the law of our today."
Human, All Too Human
On Friendship: "A crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love."