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William Wordsworth
Quote #108
And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind.
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The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door!
A youth to whom was given So much of earth-so much of heaven, And such impetuous blood.
And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.
My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard. Thus fares it …
A reasoning, self-sufficing thing, An intellectual All-in-all!
Something between a hindrance and a help.
A fingering slave, One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
Drink, pretty creature, drink!
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