How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
All that we behold is full of blessings.
Father! – to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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 Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Thought and theory must precede all salutary action; yet action is nobler in itself than either thought or theory.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar;.
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science.
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.
Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.
Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
But who would force the soul tilts with a straw Against a champion cased in adamant.
The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.
By all means sometimes be alone; salute thyself; see what thy soul doth wear; dare to look in thy chest; and tumble up and down what thou findest there.
We live by admiration, hope and love.
I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.
Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.
The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel’s wing.