Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
More Quotes from William Wordsworth:
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.William Wordsworth
Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
William Wordsworth
Provoke; The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
William Wordsworth
Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.
William Wordsworth
I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor England did I know till then; What love I bore to thee.
William Wordsworth
Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.
William Wordsworth
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