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For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.
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
Look
Environment
Humans
Learned
Looks
Humanity
Thoughtless
Hours
Oftentimes
Nature
Environmental
Stills
Hearing
Still
Hour
Music
Youth
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Brothers all In honour, as in one community, Scholars and gentlemen.
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Two voices are there one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
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Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
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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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Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither.
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But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
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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.
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And what if thou, sweet May, hast known Mishap by worm and blight If expectations newly blown Have perished in thy sight If loves and joys, while up they sprung, Were caught as in a snare Such is the lot of all the young, However bright and fair.
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Love betters what is best
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Whether we be young or old,Our destiny, our being's heart and home,Is with infinitude, and only thereWith hope it is, hope that can never die,Effort and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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Now when the primrose makes a splendid show, And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with one desire Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire, Poor Robin is yet flowerless but how gay With his red stalks upon this sunny day!
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Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.
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Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.
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Yet sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up, He felt with spirit so profound.
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But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things.
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There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead.
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A deep distress has humanised my soul.
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In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.
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As thou these ashes, little brook, wilt bear Into the Avon, Avon to the tide Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas, Into main ocean they, this deed accursed An emblem yields to friends and enemies How the bold teacher's doctrine, sanctified By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.
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