William Wordsworth
English Romantic poet (1770–1850)
1770–1850, born in Cockermouth
- Born
- 7 April 1770
- Birthplace
- Cockermouth
- Died
- 23 April 1850
From their work
I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
Read the opening of Lyrical Ballads · about 2 min
The Sun came up upon the right, Out of the Sea came he; And broad as a weft upon the left Went down into the Sea.
And the good south wind still blew behind, But no sweet Bird did follow Ne any day for food or play Came to the Marinere’s hollo!
And I had done an hellish thing And it would work ’em woe: For all averr’d, I had kill’d the Bird That made the Breeze to blow.
Ne dim ne red, like God’s own head, The glorious Sun uprist: Then all averr’d, I had kill’d the Bird That brought the fog and mist. ’Twas right, said they, such birds to slay That bring the fog and mist.
The breezes blew, the white foam flew, The furrow follow’d free: We were the first that ever burst Into that silent Sea.
Down dropt the breeze, the Sails dropt down, ’Twas sad as sad could be And we did speak only to break The silence of the Sea.
All in a hot and copper sky The bloody sun at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the moon.
Day after day, day after day, We stuck, ne breath ne motion, As idle as a painted Ship Upon a painted Ocean.
Water, water, every where And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, every where, Ne any drop to drink.
The very deeps did rot: O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy Sea.
About, about, in reel and rout The Death-fires danc’d at night; The water, like a witch’s oils, Burnt green and blue and white.
And some in dreams assured were Of the Spirit that plagued us so: Nine fathom deep he had follow’d us From the Land of Mist and Snow.
And every tongue thro’ utter drouth Was wither’d at the root; We could not speak no more than if We had been choked with soot.
Ah wel-a-day! what evil looks Had I from old and young; Instead of the Cross the Albatross About my neck was hung.
I wandered lonely as a cloudThat 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.Continuous as the stars that shineAnd twinkle on the milky way,They stretched in never-ending lineAlong the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.The waves beside them danced, but theyOut-did the sparkling leaves in glee;A poet could not be but gay,In such a jocund company!I gazed—and gazed—but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:For oft, when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.
Quotes from Wikiquote (CC BY-SA 4.0). Texts of this author are in the public domain in the UK.