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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
Tears
Thoughts
Deep
Lying
Meanest
Often
Blows
Give
Blow
Giving
Garden
Flower
More quotes by William Wordsworth
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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The education of circumstances is superior to that of tuition.
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Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.
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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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Huge and mighty forms that do not live like living men, moved slowly through the mind by day and were trouble to my dreams.
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The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
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Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
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Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou soul, that art the eternity of thought, And giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion.
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Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
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Spires whose silent finger points to heaven.
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Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
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We Poets in our youth begin in gladness But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
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Oh, blank confusion! true epitome Of what the mighty City is herself, To thousands upon thousands of her sons, Living amid the same perpetual whirl Of trivial objects, melted and reduced To one identity.
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'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
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Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.
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Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains and of all that we behold from this green earth.
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The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.
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The world is too much with us late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.
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Faith is a passionate intuition.
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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
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