William Wordsworth Quotes About Love
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For mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
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Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
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Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
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How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
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There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
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Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
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His love was like the liberal air, embracing all, to cheer and bless.
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That best portion of a man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.
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The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, An appetite; a feeling and a love that had no need of a remoter charm by thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
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And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.
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I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.
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The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
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But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.
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Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away; less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.
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We live by admiration, hope and love.
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Thou has left behind Powers that will work for thee,-air, earth, and skies! There 's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
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What know we of the Blest above but that they sing, and that they love?
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Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!- The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.
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But how can he expect that others should Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?
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She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.
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