William Wordsworth

(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

Comments about William Wordsworth

Enter the verification code :

  • Vandavasu Vittal (8/14/2009 1:06:00 AM)

    You enchant nature with life and woe with bliss. Thine strife is never undo till dear Coleridge died your source of inspiration. your poetry is charming like the flying doves. You are the poetical genius with incessant clout of emotions on paper.

    30 person liked.
    31 person did not like.
  • Rookie - 0 Points p.a. noushad (5/23/2009 6:34:00 AM)

    i feel deep within a bliss of imagination which flies high with your verses.

  • Rookie - 0 Points Aiswarya. T.anish (4/18/2009 10:42:00 AM)

    I worship you. Your poems are sooooo beautiful. I love Daffodils. I got first prize in the Recitation competition in school after I recited this poem. You are a master of poetry.

  • Rookie - 0 Points Sonya Florentino (12/7/2008 10:51:00 AM)

    I don't understand how people can not like this poem. The only reason I can think of is that they haven't experienced true bliss.. which I think is what this poem is about... bliss that you never forget, which you can always come back to and feel with the same power as when you first experienced it....spiritual bliss. When I read this poem again as an adult, by the time I got to the last two lines, I was crying because he really touched on something so profound.

  • Rookie - 0 Points p.a. noushad (6/14/2008 1:04:00 AM)

    your poems touch the beauty of nature, nature protects us, nature helps us, nature teaches, nature inspires, as a bliss in the solitude.beautiful creations.

  • Rookie - 758 Points Lamont Palmer (9/20/2006 3:08:00 PM)

    For a 19th century poet, Wordworth wrote wonderfully modern sounding verse. His 'The Prelude' is a monumental work, which I am always reading. -LP

  • Rookie - 758 Points Vikram Aarella - The Poem Shooter (5/18/2006 1:19:00 PM)

    The real master of poetry, his poem about Daffodil's was the first poem i loved as a kid.

  • Rookie - 758 Points Donna Helm (2/10/2006 10:28:00 AM)

    When life does as life does, Wordsworth had the gift to place it all in succinct prespective.

The Trosachs

THERE 's not a nook within this solemn Pass,
   But were an apt confessional for one
   Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone,
That Life is but a tale of morning grass
Wither'd at eve. From scenes of art which chase
   That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes
   Feed it 'mid Nature's old felicities,
Rocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than glass
Untouch'd, unbreathed upon. Thrice happy quest,

[Hata Bildir]