William Wordsworth — "The common growth of mother-earth Suffices me—her tears, her mirth, Her humblest…"
The common growth of mother-earth Suffices me—her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.
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More from William Wordsworth
"The eye—it cannot choose but see; We cannot bid the ear be still; Our bodies feel, where'er they be, Against or with our will."
"Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music; there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society."
"And the older a man gets, the more does he learn that he is not a man, but an ape."
"I have no doubt that, in the present state of society, a Poet, by the very act of writing in metre, does in some degree separate himself from the mass of men, and from their immediate sympathy."
"The love of nature is a great thing."
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