There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more.
What though the radiance which was once so bright be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things: We murder to dissect.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.
But trailing clouds of glory do we come from God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
I heard a thousand blended notes, while in a grove I sat reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
For oft, when on my couch I lie in vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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.
Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
A simple child, that lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, what should it know of death?
My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die!
How strange, that all the terrors, pains, and early miseries, regrets, vexations, and despairs, that came with life, should fade and melt.
Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present to live better in the future.
One impulse from a vernal wood may teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, than all the sages can.
A sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man.
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.
The best portion of a good man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.
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.
There is an ennobling modesty in an ingenuous belief in the dignity of human nature and of human mind.
That best portion of a good man's life: his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.
In every joy that crowns our days, in every pain that tries our frame, our minds should know the things they love.
A poet!—He hath put his heart to school, Nor dares to move unpropped upon the staff Which art hath lodged within his hand—must live to learn and learn to live, must still be patient in a world of pain.
With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.
A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion, to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.
Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
Imagination, which in truth is but another name for absolute power and clearest insight, amplitude of mind, and reason in her most exalted mood.
The best portion of a good man's life is his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.
Phần đẹp nhất trong đời một người tốt là những hành động tử tế và yêu thương nhỏ bé, vô danh, không được nhớ đến.
Cuộc sống chia làm ba thì – đã từng, hiện đang, và sẽ là. Chúng ta hãy học từ quá khứ để hưởng thành quả nhờ và từ hiện tại, để sống tốt đẹp hơn trong tương lai.
