Quotes by William Wordsworth

VII This tragic Story cheered us; for it speaks Of female patience winning firm repose; 50 And, of the recompense that[2] conscience seeks, A bright, encouraging, example shows; Needful when o'er wide realms the tempest breaks, Needful amid life's ordinary woes;-- Hence, not for them unfitted who would bless 55 A happy hour with holier happiness. VIII He serves the Muses erringly and ill, Whose aim is pleasure light and fugitive: O, that my mind were equal to fulfil The comprehensive mandate which they give-- 60 Vain aspiration of an earnest will! Yet in this moral Strain a power may live, Belovèd Wife! such solace to impart As it hath yielded to thy tender heart. RYDAL MOUNT, WESTMORELAND, _April 20, 1815_. "Action is transitory--a step, a blow, 65 The motion of a muscle--this way or that-- 'Tis done; and in the after-vacancy We wonder at ourselves like men betrayed: Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And has the nature of infinity. 70 Yet through that darkness (infinite though it seem And irremovable) gracious openings lie, By which the soul--with patient steps of thought Now toiling, wafted now on wings of prayer-- May pass in hope, and, though from mortal bonds 75 Yet undelivered, rise with sure ascent Even to the fountain-head of peace divine."[E] "They that deny a God, destroy Man's nobility: for certainly Man is of kinn to the Beast by his Body; and if he be not of kinn to God by his Spirit, he is a base ignoble Creature. It destroys likewise Magnanimity, and the raising of humane Nature: for take an example of a Dogg, and mark what a generosity and courage he will put on, when he finds himself maintained by a Man, who to him is instead of a God, or Melior Natura. Which courage is manifestly such, as that Creature without that confidence of a better Nature than his own could never attain. So Man, when he resteth and assureth himself upon Divine protection and favour, gathereth a force and faith which human Nature in itself could not obtain.

Do Thou, then, breathe those thoughts into my mind By which such virtue may in me be bred That in thy holy footsteps I may tread; The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind, That I may have the power to sing of thee, And sound thy praises everlastingly. 13. _Written in very early Youth_. Calm is all nature as a resting wheel. The Kine are couch'd upon the dewy grass; The Horse alone, seen dimly as I pass, Is up, and cropping yet his later meal: Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal O'er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky. Now, in this blank of things, a harmony Home-felt, and home-created seems to heal That grief for which the senses still supply Fresh food; for only then, when memory Is hush'd, am I at rest. My Friends, restrain Those busy cares that would allay my pain: Oh! leave me to myself; nor let me feel The officious touch that makes me droop again. 14. COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, Sept. 3, 1803. Earth has not any thing to shew more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendor valley, rock, or hill; 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! 15. "Beloved Vale!" I said, "when I shall con Those many records of my childish years, Remembrance of myself and of my peers Will press me down: to think of what is gone Will be an awful thought, if life have one." But, when into the Vale I came, no fears Distress'd me; I look'd round, I shed no tears; Deep thought, or awful vision, I had none. By thousand petty fancies I was cross'd, To see the Trees, which I had thought so tall, Mere dwarfs; the Brooks so narrow, Fields so small. A Juggler's Balls old Time about him toss'd; I looked, I stared, I smiled, I laughed; and all The weight of sadness was in wonder lost. 16. Methought I saw the footsteps of a throne Which mists and vapours from mine eyes did shroud, Nor view of him who sate thereon allow'd; But all the steps and ground about were strown With sights the ruefullest that flesh and bone Ever put on; a miserable crowd, Sick, hale, old, young, who cried before that cloud, "Thou art our king, O Death!

Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye and ear; both what they half create, [7] And what perceive; well pleased to recognize In nature and the language of the sense, The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul Of all my moral being. [Footnote 7: This line has a close resemblance to an admirable line of Young, the exact expression of which I cannot recollect.] Nor, perchance, If I were not thus taught, should I the more Suffer my genial spirits to decay? For thou art with me, here, upon the banks Of this fair river; thou, my dearest Friend, My dear, dear Friend, and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once, My dear, dear Sister! And this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our chearful faith that all which we behold Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in thy solitary walk; And let the misty mountain winds be free To blow against thee: and in after years, When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies; Oh! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations! Nor perchance, If I should be, where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence, wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together; and that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came, Unwearied in that service: rather say With warmer love, oh! with far deeper zeal Of holier love.

_SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT_ * * * * * She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleam'd upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the chearful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay. 10 I saw her upon nearer view, A Spirit, yet a Woman too! Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty; A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 20 And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine; A Being breathing thoughtful breath; A Traveller betwixt life and death; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength and skill; A perfect Woman; nobly plann'd, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light. 30 _The REDBREAST and the BUTTERFLY_. Art thou the Bird whom Man loves best, The pious Bird with the scarlet breast, Our little English Robin; The Bird that comes about our doors When Autumn winds are sobbing? Art thou the Peter of Norway Boors? Their Thomas in Finland, And Russia far inland? The Bird, whom by some name or other All men who know thee call their Brother, 10 The Darling of Children and men? Could Father Adam open his eyes, And see this sight beneath the skies, He'd wish to close them again. If the Butterfly knew but his friend Hither his flight he would bend, And find his way to me Under the branches of the tree: In and out, he darts about; His little heart is throbbing: 20 Can this be the Bird, to man so good, Our consecrated Robin! That, after their bewildering, Did cover with leaves the little children, So painfully in the wood?

Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye and ear; both what they half create, [7] And what perceive; well pleased to recognize In nature and the language of the sense, The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul Of all my moral being. [Footnote 7: This line has a close resemblance to an admirable line of Young, the exact expression of which I cannot recollect.] Nor, perchance, If I were not thus taught, should I the more Suffer my genial spirits to decay? For thou art with me, here, upon the banks Of this fair river; thou, my dearest Friend, My dear, dear Friend, and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once, My dear, dear Sister! And this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our chearful faith that all which we behold Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in thy solitary walk; And let the misty mountain winds be free To blow against thee: and in after years, When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies; Oh! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations!

without reproach or blot; Who do thy work, and know it not: May joy be theirs while life shall last! And Thou, if they should totter, teach them to stand fast! Serene will be our days and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security. 20 And bless'd are they who in the main This faith, even now, do entertain: Live in the spirit of this creed; Yet find that other strength, according to their need. I, loving freedom, and untried; No sport of every random gust, Yet being to myself a guide, Too blindly have reposed my trust: Resolved that nothing e'er should press Upon my present happiness, 30 I shoved unwelcome tasks away; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. Through no disturbance of my soul, Or strong compunction in me wrought, I supplicate for thy controul; But in the quietness of thought: Me this uncharter'd freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance desires: My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose which ever is the same. 40 Yet not the less would I throughout Still act according to the voice Of my own wish; and feel past doubt That my submissiveness was choice: Not seeking in the school of pride For "precepts over dignified," Denial and restraint I prize No farther than they breed a second Will more wise. Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace; 50 Nor know we any thing so fair As is the smile upon thy face; Flowers laugh before thee on their beds; And Fragrance in thy footing treads; Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong; And the most ancient Heavens through Thee are fresh and strong. To humbler functions, awful Power! I call thee: I myself commend Unto thy guidance from this hour; Oh! let my weakness have an end! 60 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!

These forms of beauty have not been to me, As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of wariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart, And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration:--feelings too Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As may have had no trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life; His little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world Is lighten'd:--that serene and blessed mood; In which the affections gently lead us on, Until, the breath of this corporeal frame, And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things. If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft, In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless day-light; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee O sylvan Wye! Thou wanderer through the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee! And now, with gleams, of half-extinguish'd thought, With many recognitions dim and faint, And somewhat of a sad perplexity, The picture of the mind revives again: While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts That in this moment there is life and food For future years. And so I dare to hope Though changed, no doubt, from what I was, when first I came among these hills; when like a roe I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, Wherever nature led: more like a man Flying from something that he dreads, than one Who sought the thing he loved.

186] FOOTNOTES: [181] Compare the echo of the Lady's voice in the lines _To Joanna_, in the "Poems on the Naming of Places" (vol. ii. p. 157).--ED. [182] The desert around Mecca.--ED. [183] Mahomet affirmed that he had constant visits from angels; and that the angel Gabriel dictated to him the Koran.--ED. [184] 1837. 'Mid phantom ... 1822. [185] The mirage.--ED. [186] Pillars of sand raised by whirlwinds in the desert, which correspond to waterspouts at sea.--ED. XXVIII REFLECTIONS Grant, that by this unsparing hurricane Green leaves with yellow mixed are torn away, And goodly fruitage with the mother spray; 'Twere madness--wished we, therefore, to detain, With hands stretched forth in[187] mollified disdain, 5 The "trumpery" that ascends in bare display-- Bulls, pardons, relics, cowls black, white, and grey--[188] Upwhirled, and flying o'er the ethereal plain Fast bound for Limbo Lake.[189] And yet not choice But habit rules the unreflecting herd, 10 And airy bonds are hardest to disown; Hence, with the spiritual sovereignty transferred Unto itself, the Crown assumes a voice Of reckless mastery, hitherto unknown. FOOTNOTES: [187] 1827. With farewell sighs of 1822. [188] See _Paradise Lost_, book iii. ll. 474, 475-- Eremites and Friars, White, black, and grey, with all their trumperie.--ED. [189] Hades.--ED. XXIX TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE But, to outweigh all harm, the sacred Book, In dusty sequestration wrapt too long, Assumes the accents of our native tongue; And he who guides the plough, or wields the crook, With understanding spirit now may look 5 Upon her records, listen to her song, And sift her laws--much wondering that the wrong, Which Faith has suffered, Heaven could calmly brook Transcendent Boon! noblest that earthly King Ever bestowed to equalize and bless 10 Under the weight of mortal wretchedness!