Action is transitory,-a step, a blow; The motion of a muscle, this way or that.
William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)
Source: The Borderers. Act iii.
Contributed by: Zaady
The monumental pomp of age Was with this goodly personage; A stature undepressed in size, Unbent, which rather seemed to rise In open victory o'er the weight Of seventy years, to loftier height.
Source: The White Doe of Rylstone. Canto iii.
To be a Prodigal's favourite,-then, worse truth, A Miser's pensioner,-behold our lot!
Source: The Small Celandine.
Until a man might travel twelve stout miles, Or reap an acre of his neighbor's corn.
Source: The Brothers.
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils.
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will; Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!
Source: Earth has not anything to show more fair.
Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.
Of blessed consolations in distress.
Source: Preface to the Excursion. (Edition, 1814.)
Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose type of things through all degrees.
Source: To the same Flower.
Often have I sighed to measure By myself a lonely pleasure,- Sighed to think I read a book, Only read, perhaps, by me.
Source: To the Small Celandine.
Copyright © 2014 Gaiam, Inc.