The Sea that bares her bosom to the moonThe winds that will be howling at all hours,And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowersFor this, for everything, we are out of tune.
More Quotes from William Wordsworth:
The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.William Wordsworth
Soft is the music that would charm forever The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.
William Wordsworth
Drink, pretty creature, drink.
William Wordsworth
Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
William Wordsworth
My apprehensions come in crowds I dread the rustling of the grass The very shadows of the clouds Have power to shake me as they pass I question things and do not find One that will answer to my mind And all the world appears unkind.
William Wordsworth
Thou unassuming commonplace Of Nature.
William Wordsworth
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