And O, ye fountains, meadows, hills and groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves; Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might.
More Quotes from William Wordsworth:
Still glides the stream, and shall for ever glide The form remains, the function never dies.William Wordsworth
Long have I loved what I behold. The night that calms, the day that cheers The common growth of mother-earth Suffices me.
William Wordsworth
Thrice welcome, darling of the spring; Even yet thou art to me; No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery.
William Wordsworth
One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
William Wordsworth
The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.
William Wordsworth
Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene, The work of Fancy, or some happy tone; Of meditation, slipping in between; The beauty coming and the beauty gone.
William Wordsworth
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