Poetry is most just to its divine origin, when it administers the comforts and breathes the thoughts of religion. William Wordsworth More Quotes by William Wordsworth More Quotes From William Wordsworth In ourselves our safety must be sought. By our own right hand it must be wrought. William Wordsworth safetyhands A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light William Wordsworth angellightperfect Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. William Wordsworth without-hopesufferingwar A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave! William Wordsworth slaveshouldlove Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness. William Wordsworth golfretirementsports Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name. William Wordsworth father-sonfathers-daydad Come, blessed barrier between day and day, William Wordsworth blessedmothersleep And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love. William Wordsworth worthyseemslove Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee? William Wordsworth faithfulremembrancemind One solace yet remains for us who came Into this world in days when story lacked Severe research, that in our hearts we know How, for exciting youth's heroic flame, Assent is power, belief the soul of fact. William Wordsworth flamessoulheart Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge - it is as immortal as the heart of man. William Wordsworth lastsheartmen On a fair prospect some have looked, And felt, as I have heard them say, As if the moving time had been A thing as steadfast as the scene On which they gazed themselves away. William Wordsworth scenetimemoving Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue. William Wordsworth sad-musichearinghumanity The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul. William Wordsworth depthsoulapproval It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea: Listen! the mighty being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thundereverlastingly. William Wordsworth seatimeheaven Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged. William Wordsworth insult The child shall become father to the man. William Wordsworth menfatherchildren Like an army defeated William Wordsworth armyrainclouds The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society. William Wordsworth empirespassiontogether Far from the world I walk, and from all care. William Wordsworth carelifeworld
