William Wordsworth Quotes


What though the radiance which was once so bright Be not forever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower Strength in what remains behind, In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be, In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of Human suffering, In the faith that looks through death In years that bring philophic mind.








What though the radiance which was once so bright Be not forever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;Grief not, rather find, Strength in what remains behind, In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be, In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of Human suffering, In the faith that looks through death In years that bring philophic mind.




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Adeline bincy : I love her poem I loved poem is daffodils









FAYAZ AHMAD HAKIM: WORDSWORTH IS THE FATHER OF NATURE POETRY .
FAYAZ AHMAD HAKIM: WORDSWORTH IS THE FATHER OF NATURE POETRY .
FAYAZ AHMAD HAKIM: WORDSWORTH IS THE FATHER OF NATURE POETRY .
William: Hii kase

Diksha: Nature poem
Charles W Spurgeon, professor emeritus: Sometimes I feel as if Wordsworth gave me that which I call my soul; he so informed my psyche that I intuit my humanity at home with Nature. His poetry creates "heart-mindfulness".
Jishu Dolui: His full poem ❝ We are seven ❞ my photo album
Jill Bulman: Wondered why there is no listing for Wordsworth's most famous and probably most loved poem, 'I wandered lonely as a cloud' ?!
Written in London, September, 1902: high thinking and simple living
RALlB: 'apt admonishment', from Resolution and Independence, so he was a teacher and humble too, though a Johnian he recognised the sublime beauty and excess of King's College chapel 'glorious work of fine intelligence' and 'give all thy canst, High Heaven rejects the lore of nicely calculated less or more'

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Ernest Dowson Poem
The Garden Of Shadow
 by Ernest Dowson

Love heeds no more the sighing of the wind
Against the perfect flowers: thy garden's close
Is grown a wilderness, where none shall find
One strayed, last petal of one last year's rose.

O bright, bright hair! O mouth like a ripe fruit!
Can famine be so nigh to harvesting?
Love, that was songful, with a broken lute
...

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