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558 quotes from 241 people
To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour
I’m truly sorry man’s dominion Has broken Nature’s social union, An’ justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, An’ fellow-mortal!
My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go.
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.
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, Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue.
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. It is not now as it has been of yore;— Turn wheresoe’er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
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!
Water, water, every where, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, every where, Nor any drop to drink.
Or if the secret ministry of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.
O, wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art!
’Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone
