William Wordsworth Quotes about Sleep

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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.

William Wordsworth

Stars, Sleep, Afterlife

"Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood" l. 58 (1807)

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

Inspirational, Baby, Sleep

"Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood" l. 58 (1807)

Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!

William Wordsworth

Mother, Blessed, Sleep

William Wordsworth (1992). “Favorite Poems”, p.54, Courier Corporation

Mark the babe not long accustomed to this breathing world; One that hath barely learned to shape a smile, though yet irrational of soul, to grasp with tiny finger - to let fall a tear; And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves, To stretch his limbs, becoming, as might seem. The outward functions of intelligent man.

William Wordsworth

Baby, Fall, Sleep

William Wordsworth (1847). “The Poems of William Wordsworth”, p.491

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.

William Wordsworth

Sleep, Afterlife, Infancy Is

"Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood" l. 58 (1807)

The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune.

William Wordsworth

Flower, Sleep, Heart

"TheWorld Is Too Much with Us" l. 1 (1807)

Two voices are there: one is of the deep; It learns the storm-cloud's thunderous melody, Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea, Now bird-like pipes, now closes soft in sleep: And one is of an old half-witted sheep Which bleats articulate monotony, And indicates that two and one are three, That grass is green, lakes damp, and mountains steep And, Wordsworth, both are thine.

William Wordsworth

Sleep, Two, Voice

William Wordsworth (1954). “The prelude: with a selection from the shorter poems, the sonnets, The recluse, and The excursion, and three essays on the art of poetry”, Harcourt College Pub

Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source, The rapt one, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth: And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth.

William Wordsworth

Lonely, Loneliness, Sleep

'Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg' (1835)

I've watched you now a full half-hour; Self-poised upon that yellow flower And, little Butterfly! Indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless! - not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again!

William Wordsworth

Flower, Sleep, Butterfly

William Wordsworth, Stephen Gill (2000). “The Major Works”, p.254, Oxford University Press, USA