A Quote by William Wordsworth

The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves; And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives. — © William Wordsworth
The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves; And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives.
Eternity doth wear upon her face the veil of time. They only see the veil, and thus they know not what they stand so near!
The wind is awake, pretty leave, pretty leaves, Heed not what he says, he deceives, he deceives; Over and over To the lowly clover He has lisped the same love (and forgotten it, too). He will be lisping and pledging to you.
I found a strawberry blossom in a rock. The little slender flower had more courage than the green leaves, for they were but half expanded and half grown, but the blossom was spread full out. I uprooted it rashly, and I felt as if I had been committing an outrage, so I planted it again. It will have but a stormy life of it, but let it live if it can.
There is a veil between the Supermind above and the lower Prakriti below - the veil of ingrained formations. This veil may completely withdraw or be partially withdrawn. Thus even if there is some little opening, with the contact of Light from above the lower nature will get slowly changed.
All man has to do is cooperate with the big forces, the sun, the rain, the growing urge. Seeds sprout, stems grow, leaves spread in the sunlight. Man plants, weeds, cultivates and harvests. It sounds simple, and it is simple, with the simplicity of great truths.
I have nothing against the veil. And I think that, wrongly, many in the West look at the veil as a symbol of oppression. Now, as long as a woman chooses to wear the veil, because that's her belief and because of her own - that's a personal relationship with God, so she should be free to dress in whichever way she wants.
O fairest flower! no sooner blown but blasted, Soft silken primrose fading timelessly.
It is the business of a general to be quiet and thus ensure secrecy; upright and just, and thus maintain order.
She would have colored gracefully with embarrassment had she not possessed the complexion of one of those “heathen Italians,” as her mother said, who never colored, gracefully or otherwise. (Convincing her mother that Christianity had, to all intents and purposes, originated with the Italians, thus making them the exact opposite of heathen, was a waste of time and breath.)
I wished for nothing beyond her smile, and to walk with her thus, hand in hand, along a sun warmed, flower bordered path.
A Primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him And it was something more.
And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours, her life simple and strange as a bird's life, gay in the morning, restless all day, tired at sundown? Her heart simple and willful as a bird's heart?
Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
A simple maiden in her flower, Is worth a hundred coats of arms.
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trails its wreath; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure; But the least motion which they made, It seemed a thrill of pleasure. The budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air; And I must think, do all I can That there was pleasure there. If this belief from heaven be sent, If such be Nature's holy plan, Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
You find a flower half-buried in leaves, And in your eye its very fate resides. Loving beauty, you caress the bloom; Soon enough, you'll sweep petals from the floor. Terrible to love the lovely so, To count your own years, to say I'm old, To see a flower half-buried in leaves And come face to face with what you are.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!