More from William Wordsworth

  1. Something between a hindrance and a help.
  2. May no rude hand deface it, And its forlorn Hic jacet!
  3. 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 …
  4. Five years have passed; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-spri…
  5. A youth to whom was given So much of earth-so much of heaven, And such impetuous blood.
  6. These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'm…
  7. And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind.
  8. O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee!

All William Wordsworth quotes