Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours; with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart. William Wordsworth More Quotes by William Wordsworth More Quotes From William Wordsworth We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope. William Wordsworth enoughjoyyears Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come. William Wordsworth sleepbabyinspirational Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find. William Wordsworth earthhappinessgiving Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar. William Wordsworth weedwisdompositive Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science William Wordsworth poetry-isexpressionspirit What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how. William Wordsworth teachnature That inward eye/ Which is the bliss of solitude. William Wordsworth inwardsolitudeeye The world is too much with us; late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours. William Wordsworth naturelittlesworld That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind. William Wordsworth strengthtimesympathy Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity. William Wordsworth sadnaturedark All that we behold is full of blessings. William Wordsworth gratitudethanksgivingkids In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind. William Wordsworth moodmindsweet Oft in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life. William Wordsworth casuallifeway Rest and be thankful. William Wordsworth being-thankfulthankfulness Habit rules the unreflecting herd. William Wordsworth peer-pressurehabitreflection A tale in everything. William Wordsworth tales Have I not reason to lament William Wordsworth reasonmademen My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard. William Wordsworth tearseyeheart One with more of soul in his face than words on his tongue. William Wordsworth tonguesoulfaces Be mild, and cleave to gentle things, thy glory and thy happiness be there. William Wordsworth gentleglory
