William Wordsworth Quotes

411 Sourced Quotes

The moving accident is not my trade;
To freeze the blood I have no ready arts:
'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade,
To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.

William Wordsworth
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
She hath smiles to earth unknown—
Smiles that with motion of their own
Do spread, and sink, and rise.

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;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

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.

William Wordsworth
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
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
And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,
With many recognitions dim and faint,
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
The picture of the mind revives again:
While here I stand, not only with the sense
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years. And so I dare to hope,
Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first
I came among these hills;

William Wordsworth
But shapes that come not at an earthly call,
Will not depart when mortal voices bid.

William Wordsworth
Of vast circumference and gloom profound,
This solitary Tree! A living thing
Produced too slowly ever to decay;
Of form and aspect too magnificent
To be destroyed.

William Wordsworth
Not in Utopia,—subterranean fields,—
Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where!
But in the very world, which is the world
Of all of us,—the place where in the end
We find our happiness, or not at all!

William Wordsworth
Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour.

William Wordsworth
What fond and wayward thoughts will slide
Into a lover's head!
"O mercy!" to myself I cried,
"If Lucy should be dead!"

William Wordsworth
Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue.

William Wordsworth
Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows
Like harmony in music; there is a dark
Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles
Discordant elements, makes them cling together
In one society.

William Wordsworth
The Eagle, he was lord above,
And Rob was lord below.

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…
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

William Wordsworth
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.

William Wordsworth
Oh there is blessing in this gentle breeze,
A visitant that while it fans my cheek
Doth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings
From the green fields, and from yon azure sky.
Whate'er its mission, the soft breeze can come
To none more grateful than to me; escaped
From the vast city, where I long had pined
A discontented sojourner: now free,
Free as a bird to settle where I will.

William Wordsworth
A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command.
And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light.

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

William Wordsworth
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way.

William Wordsworth
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:—
We murder to dissect.
Enough of science and of art;
Close up these barren leaves.

William Wordsworth
But thou that didst appear so fair
To fond imagination,
Dost rival in the light of day
Her delicate creation.

William Wordsworth
There's something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
Shaped like the crescent-moon.

William Wordsworth
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of Things:—
We murder to dissect.

William Wordsworth
Those old credulities, to Nature dear,
Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock
Of history?

William Wordsworth
The Poet writes under one restriction only, namely, the necessity of giving immediate pleasure to a human Being possessed of that information which may be expected from him, not as a lawyer, a physician, a mariner, an astronomer or a natural philosopher, but as a Man.

William Wordsworth
Behold, within the leafy shade,
Those bright blue eggs together laid!
On me the chance-discovered sight
Gleamed like a vision of delight.

William Wordsworth
Soft is the music that would charm forever;
The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.

William Wordsworth
More skillful in self-knowledge, even more pure,
As tempted more; more able to endure,
As more exposed to suffering and distress.

William Wordsworth