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To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
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
Thoughts
Deep
Lying
Meanest
Often
Blows
Give
Blow
Giving
Garden
Flower
Tears
More quotes by William Wordsworth
We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.
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What is good for a bootless bene? With these dark words begins my tale And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
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The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
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For by superior energies more strict affiance in each other faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.
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And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
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But to a higher mark than song can reach, Rose this pure eloquence.
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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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Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan.
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When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
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My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began So is it now I am a man So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
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Wisdom married to immortal verse.
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A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
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A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?
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Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
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Nor less I deem that there are Powers Which of themselves our minds impress That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness
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The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!
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What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
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Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.
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