I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven Was blowing on my body, felt within A correspondent breeze, that gently moved With quickening virtue, but is now become A tempest, a redundant energy, Vexing its own creation.

-Wordsworth,William
^1805  The Prelude, bk.1, l.33^8 (published1850).

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: Not in entire forgetfulness And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing boy, But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; The youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is nature's priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his wayattended; At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.

-Wordsworth,William
c.1802^1803  'Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood', stanza 5 (published1807).

Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy! For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood Upon our side, we who were strong in love! Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven!

-Wordsworth,William
  'The French Revolution as it appeared to enthusiasts at its commencement', l.1^5 (published in The Friend, 26 Oct.1809).

Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!

-Wordsworth,William
  'To a Skylark', l.11^12 (published1827).

With what nice care equivalents are given, How just, how bountiful, the hand of Heaven.

-Wordsworth,William
  'Poor Robin', l.35^6 (published1842).