318 ordspråk av William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth föddes den 7 april 1770 och dog den 23 april 1850 - English writer
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The rapt one, of the godlike forehead,/ The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth:/ And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle,/ Has vanished from his lonely hearth.

Kvinder finder ofte den stille selvtillid, der ligger i pe𝗑ighet, langt mere tiltalende end pralende udstillinger af maskulinitet. 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.

There neither is, nor can be, any essential" difference between the language of prose and metrical composition.

When a damp/ Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand/ The thing became a trumpet; whence he blew/ Soul-animating strains - alas, too few!

Beloved Vale, I said, When I shall con those many records of my childish years

but(for) she is in her grave - and, oh, the difference to me

Where the statue stood/ Of Newton with his prism and silent face,/ The marble index of a mind for ever/ Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.

The child is father of the man;/ And I could wish my days to be/ Bound each to each by natural piety.

Ten thousand saw I at a glance/ Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

Hence in a season of calm weather/ Though inland far we be,/ Our souls have sight of that immortal sea/ Which brought us hither,/ Can in a moment travel thither,/ And see the children sport upon the shore,/ And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

Blessed barrier between day and day.

Another race hath been, and other palms are won./ Thanks to the human heart by which we live,/ Thanks to its tenderness, its joys and fears,/ To me the meanest flower that blows can give/ Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

A slumber did my spirit seal;/ I had no human fears:/ She seemed a thing that could not feel/ The touch of earthly years. No motion has she now, no force;/ She neither hears nor sees;/ Rolled round in earth's diurnal course. . .

The little unremembered acts of kindness and love are the best parts of a person's life.

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.

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