Quote #27
The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the poet's dream.
More from William Wordsworth
- Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose types of things through all degrees.
- Dear Child of Nature, let them rail!
- Thou unassuming Common-place Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace, Which Love makes for thee!
- Thou, while thy babes around thee cling, Shalt show us how divine a thing A Woman may be made.
- No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery.
- But an old age serene and bright, And lovely as a Lapland night, Shall lead thee to thy grave.
- O Blithe newcomer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice. O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice?
- Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, Mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there One of a mig…