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Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.

William Wordsworth

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Moments Ourselves Silence

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Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Collection Emotion Poetry Tranquility
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Forget Forgetfulness Glory Naked Ourselves
Chains tie us down by land and sea; And wishes, vain as mine, may be All that is left to comfort thee.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Comfortable Sea
Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Dance Flower Heart Myself Nature
May books and nature be their early joy!
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Book Joy Nature
We live by admiration, hope and love.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Hope Live Love
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

Eyes Joy Life Power Quiet See
Rest and be thankful.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

One Liner Thankful
Often in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Feeling Life Myself
But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Creation Enemy Herself Imagination Light
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.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Ourselves Power Waste World
Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Heaven Home True Wisdom
One with more of soul in his face than words on his tongue.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Face Oneself Soul Word
Imagination is the means of deep insight and sympathy, the power to conceive and express images removed from normal objective reality.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Expression Imagination Power Reality
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Feeling Ourselves Pleasure Pride
Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge – it is as immortal as the heart of man.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Heart Immortal Knowledge Man Poetry

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