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With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.
inspirational
William Wordsworth
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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,
William Wordsworth
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The Reverie of Poor Susan AT the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years: Poor Susan has pass'd by the spot, and has heard In the silence of morning the song of the bird. 'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside. ..
William Wordsworth
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Sweet childish days, that were as long As twenty days are now.
William Wordsworth
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O for a single hour of that Dundee, Who on that day the word of onset gave!
William Wordsworth
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Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet.
William Wordsworth
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Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
William Wordsworth
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Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.
William Wordsworth
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No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery.
William Wordsworth
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The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the poet's dream.
William Wordsworth
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Dear Child of Nature, let them rail!
William Wordsworth
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Like--but oh, how different!
William Wordsworth
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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
William Wordsworth
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Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
William Wordsworth
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Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great, is passed away.
William Wordsworth
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Two Voices are there; one is of the sea, One of the mountains; each a mighty Voice.
William Wordsworth
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Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
William Wordsworth
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A cheerful life is what the Muses love, A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
William Wordsworth
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But shapes that come not at an earthly call, Will not depart when mortal voices bid.
William Wordsworth
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Surprised by joy--impatient as the Wind.
William Wordsworth
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What is pride? A whizzing rocket That would emulate a star.
William Wordsworth
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Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour.
William Wordsworth
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But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things.
William Wordsworth
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Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!
William Wordsworth
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Ocean is a mighty harmonist.
William Wordsworth
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These feeble and fastidious times.
William Wordsworth
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Minds that have nothing to confer Find little to perceive.
William Wordsworth
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Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
William Wordsworth
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A primrose by a river's brim And it was nothing more.
William Wordsworth
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In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
William Wordsworth
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Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
William Wordsworth
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Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.
William Wordsworth
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The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door!
William Wordsworth
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And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind.
William Wordsworth
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Something between a hindrance and a help.
William Wordsworth
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May no rude hand deface it, And its forlorn Hic jacet!
William Wordsworth
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O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee!
William Wordsworth
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A fingering slave, Upon his mother's grave.
William Wordsworth
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A reasoning, self-sufficing thing, An intellectual All-in-all!
William Wordsworth
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He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
William Wordsworth
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And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.
William Wordsworth
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The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
William Wordsworth
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Fair seedtime had my soul, and I grew up Fostered alike by beauty and by fear.
William Wordsworth
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A day Spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
William Wordsworth