William Wordsworth Nature Quotations

One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.

For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.

Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.

Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.

With Nature never do they wageA foolish strife; they seeA happy youth, and their old ageIs beautiful and free.

Three years she grew in sun and shower,/ Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flower/ On earth was never sown;/ This child I to myself will take;/ She shall be mine, and I will make/ A Lady of my own.

Written in Early Spring I heard a thousand blended notes While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think What Man has made of Man.

Why do not words and kiss, and solemn pledge, And nature that is kind in woman's breast, And reason that in man is wise and good, And fear of Him who is a righteous Judge - Why do not these prevail for human life, To keep two hearts together, that be

To her fair works did Nature linkThe human soul that through me ran. . . .

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art; Close up these barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.

To the solid ground Of Nature trusts the mind which builds for aye.

Nature's old felicities.

Sweet is the lore which nature brings, our meddeling interlect mis-shapes the beautious forms of things. we murder to dissect

Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.

"One impulse from a vernal wood

Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.

The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can.

In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.

Careless of books, yet having felt the power Of Nature, by the gentle agency Of natural objects, led me on to feel For passions that were not my own, and think (At random and imperfectly indeed) On man, the heart of man, and human life.

. . .this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 't is 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 cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings.

Let the moon shine on the in thy solitary walk; and let the misty mountain-winds be free to blow against thee.

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.

May books and nature be their early joy!

Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains; and of all that we behold from this green earth.

For nature then to me was all in all.

I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led.

She seemed a thing that could not feel the touch of earthly years.

I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.

What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.

one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.

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.