873 Quotes by William Wordsworth

Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.

No Nightingale did ever chant More welcome notes to weary bands Of travelers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands: A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebri

Strange fits of passion have I known:/ And I will dare to tell,/ But in the lover's ear alone,/ What once to me befell.

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; 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; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.

The very flowers are sacred to the poor.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar;

And mighty poets in their misery dead.

The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.

O Nightingale, thou surely art/ A creature of a 'fiery heart'.