While counting the greatest of English poets ever to have lived on Earth, it is only certain that William Wordsworth would be amongst the first ones to be listed. For had it not been for this great man, the era of Romanticism in English poetry wouldn’t have existed! He is the man behind ‘Lyrical Ballads’ the man who penned ‘The Prelude’, the man who eventually became one of the most influential English Romantic poets of the century. Together with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Wordsworth launched the Romantic era of English literature, in which writers sought to unite the tranquillity of nature and the inner emotional world of men. He wanted to create poetry that allowed readers to reunite with their true emotions and feelings. In 1843, he was named Poet Laureate of Britain, a post which he retained until his death in 1850. Wordsworth’s most famous work, ‘The Prelude’, an autobiographical, is considered by many to be the crowning achievement of English romanticism. The poem, revised numerous times, chronicles the spiritual life of the poet and marks the birth of a new genre of poetry. Although Wordsworth worked on ‘The Prelude’ throughout his life, the poem was published posthumously. Much like his poetry, Wordsworth’s quotes give a new perspective to life. They cover varied topics like meaning of life, happiness, love and family. We bring to you some of the interesting quotes by William Wordsworth that will surely provide you with food for thought.
Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
Are a substantial world, both pure and good:
Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
When from our better selves we have too long
Been parted by the hurrying world, and droop,
Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired,
How gracious, how benign, is Solitude
William Wordsworth
The eye--it cannot choose but see;
We cannot bid the ear be still;
Our bodies feel, where'er they be,
Against or with our will.
The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.
William Wordsworth
The earth was all before me. With a heart
Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty,
I look about; and should the chosen guide
Be nothing better than a wandering cloud,
I cannot miss my way.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and its fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
William Wordsworth
What we have loved, others will love, and we will teach them how; instruct them how the mind of man becomes a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells...
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;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
William Wordsworth
How does the meadow-flower its bloom
unfold?
Because the lovely little flower is free
Down to its root, and in that freedom
bold.
William Wordsworth
The good die first.
William Wordsworth
Duty were our games.
William Wordsworth
Books! tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom in it.
William Wordsworth
Hence, in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
William Wordsworth
Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
Are a substantial world, both pure and good.
William Wordsworth
But trailing clouds of glory do we come from God, who is our home.
Feeling comes in aid
Of feeling, and diversity of strength
Attends us, if but once we have been strong.
William Wordsworth
Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is the countenance of all science.
William Wordsworth
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.
The storm came on before its time:
She wandered up and down;
And many a hill did Lucy climb:
But never reached the town.
He spake of love, such love as spirits feel
In worlds whose course is equable and pure:
No fears to beat away - no strife to heal,
The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
Though nothing will bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; we will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
We not only wish to be pleased, but to be pleased in that particular
way in which we have been accustomed to be pleased.
William Wordsworth
One Lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide,
Taught both by what she shews, and what conceals,
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
William Wordsworth
The child is father of the man
William Wordsworth
O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live.
William Wordsworth
I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds
With coldness still returning;
Alas! the gratitude of men
Has oftener left me mourning.
