William Wordsworth Quotes on Beauty
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A primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more.
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Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
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Thou unassuming Common-place Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace, Which Love makes for thee!
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She hath smiles to earth unknown- Smiles that with motion of their own Do spread, and sink, and rise.
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And beauty, for confiding youth, Those shocks of passion can prepare That kill the bloom before its time; And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.
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The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.
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True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
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Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away; less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.
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Three years she grew in sun and shower, Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flower On earth was never sown; This Child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make A Lady of my own.'
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The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door!
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Fair seedtime had my soul, and I grew up Fostered alike by beauty and by fear.
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She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament.
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There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore- Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
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The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose, The Moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare; Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth.