The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)
Source: Three years she grew in Sun and Shower.
Contributed by: Zaady
Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
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.
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
Source: To the Cuckoo.
Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop Than when we soar,
Source: The Excursion. Book iii., 1798
Wisdom married to immortal verse.
Source: The Excursion. Book vii.
Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!
Source: Ode to Duty.
And he is oft the wisest man Who is not wise at all.
Source: The Oak and the Broom.
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