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I listened, motionless and still And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
William Wordsworth
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William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Long
Listened
Hills
Musical
Heard
Mounted
Stills
Motionless
Still
Bore
Music
Hill
Heart
Bores
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster child, her inmate man, Forget the glories he hath known And that imperial palace whence he came.
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Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!
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The moving accident is not my trade To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing is solitude
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The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away than what it leaves behind.
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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
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May books and nature be their early joy!
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In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't know what he is doing.
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But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise,O Nature! we are thine.
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Imagination is the means of deep insight and sympathy, the power to conceive and express images removed from normal objective reality.
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
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That blessed mood in which the burthen of the mystery, in which the heavy and the weary weight of all this unintelligible world is lightened.
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Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
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A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
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How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
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I look for ghosts but none will force Their way to me. 'Tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Between the living and the dead.
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The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
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Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!- The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.
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The memory of the just survives in Heaven.
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Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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