Three sleepless nights I passed in sounding on,
Through words and things, a dim and perilous way.
Quotes from Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed — William Wordsworth
1770–1850 England
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And 't is my faith, that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
"A jolly place," said he, "in times of old!
But something ails it now: the spot is cursed."
Sweetest melodies
Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
And often, glad no more,
We wear a face of joy because
We have been glad of yore.
And he is oft the wisest man
Who is not wise at all.
Soft is the music that would charm forever;
The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.
Turning, for them who pass, the common dust
Of servile opportunity to gold.
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain
That has been, and may be again.
To the solid ground
Of Nature trusts the mind that builds for aye.
The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift,
That no philosophy can lift.
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought,
When such are wanted.
Attribution
Quotes and notes from Wikiquote: William Wordsworth (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0.