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William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth

Say, What Is Honour?--‘Tis the Finest Sense

SAY, what is Honour?—'Tis the finest sense
Of 'justice’ which the human mind can frame,
Intent each lurking frailty to disclaim,
And guard the way of life from all offence
Suffered or done. When lawless violence
Invades a Realm, so pressed that in the scale
Of perilous war her weightiest armies fail,
Honour is hopeful elevation,—whence
Glory, and triumph. Yet with politic skill
Endangered States may yield to terms unjust;
Stoop their proud heads, but not unto the dust—
A Foe’s most favourite purpose to fulfil:
Happy occasions oft by self—mistrust
Are forfeited; but infamy doth kill.

#EnglishWriters #Sonnet

Other works by William Wordsworth...
Surprised by Joy

Surprised by joy—impatient as the… I turned to share the transport—O… But Thee, long buried in the sile… That spot which no vicissitude can… Love, faithful love, recalled thee…
 1
Feelings of a French Royalist, on the Disinterment of the Remains of the Duke D’Enghien

DEAR Reliques! from a pit of vil… Uprisen—to lodge among ancestral k… And to inflict shame’s salutary st… On the remorseless hearts of men g… In a blind worship; men perversely…
Weak Is the Will of Man, His Judgement Blind

‘WEAK is the will of Man, his ju… ’Remembrance persecutes, and Hope… ‘Heavy is woe;—and joy, for human—… ’A mournful thing, so transient is… Thus might 'he’ paint our lot of m…
 1
November, 1806

Another year!—another deadly blow! Another mighty Empire overthrown! And We are left, or shall be left… The last that dare to struggle wit… 'Tis well! from this day forward w…
 1
Beggars

She had a tall man’s height or mor… Her face from summer’s noontide he… No bonnet shaded, but she wore A mantle, to her very feet Descending with a graceful flow,
 1
I. Departure From the Vale of Grasmere August 1803

THE gentlest Shade that walked E… Might sometimes covet dissoluble c… Even for the tenants of the zone t… Beyond the stars, celestial Parad… Methinks 'twould heighten joy, to…
 1
Ellen Irwin

Fair Ellen Irwin, when she sate Upon the braes of Kirtle, Was lovely as a Grecian maid Adorned with wreaths of myrtle; Young Adam Bruce beside her lay,
 1
From the Dark Chambers of Dejection Freed

FROM the dark chambers of deject… Spurning the unprofitable yoke of… Rise, GILLIES, rise; the gales… Thy genius forward like a winged s… Though bold Bellerophon (so Jove…
The Oak and the Broom: a Pastoral

HIS simple truths did Andrew gle… Beside the babbling rills; A careful student he had been Among the woods and hills. One winter’s night, when through t…
To the Same (John Dyer)

ENOUGH of climbing toil!—Ambiti… Here, as 'mid busier scenes, groun… Or slippery even to peril! and eac… As we for most uncertain recompenc… Mount toward the empire of the fic…
 1
A Sketch

The little hedgerow birds, That peck along the road, regard h… He travels on, and in his face, hi… His gait, is one expression; every… His look and bending figure, all b…
 1
Yes! Thou Art Fair, Yet Be Not Moved

YES! thou art fair, yet be not mo… To scorn the declaration, That sometimes I in thee have lov… My fancy’s own creation. Imagination needs must stir;
 1
Upon Perusing the Forgoing Epistle Thirty Years After Its Composition

SOON did he Almighty Giver of a… Take those dear young Ones to a f… And in Death’s arms has long repo… For whom this simple Register was… Thanks to the moth that spared it…
To the Daisy (first poem)

IN youth from rock to rock I went… From hill to hill in discontent Of pleasure high and turbulent, Most pleased when most uneasy; But now my own delights I make,—
Lucy I: STRANGE fits of passion have I known

STRANGE fits of passion have I… And I will dare to tell, But in the lover’s ear alone, What once to me befell. When she I loved look’d every day
 1



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