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But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.
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
Time
Aging
Love
Lovely
Thee
Lapland
Lead
Serene
Quiet
Grave
Shall
Birthday
Age
Graves
Night
Bright
More quotes by William Wordsworth
He loves not well whose love is bold! I would not have thee come too nigh. The sun's gold would not seem pure gold Unless the sun were in the sky: To take him thence and chain him near Would make his beauty disappear. William Winter, Love's Queen. The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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Memories... images and precious thoughts that shall not die and cannot be destroyed.
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On a fair prospect some have looked, And felt, as I have heard them say, As if the moving time had been A thing as steadfast as the scene On which they gazed themselves away.
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Truth takes no account of centuries.
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Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
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Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, --Or some secreted island, Heaven knows whereBut in the very world, which is the worldOf all of us, -- the place where in the endWe find our happiness, or not at all
William Wordsworth
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
William Wordsworth
Babylon, Learned and wise, hath perished utterly, Nor leaves her speech one word to aid the sigh That would lament her.
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Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.
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Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.
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Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
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And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
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Stern daughter of the voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring and reprove.
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One with more of soul in his face than words on his tongue.
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Nature's old felicities.
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Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Their snow-white blossoms on my head, With brightest sunshine round me spread Of spring's unclouded weather, In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard-seat! And birds and flowers once more to greet, My last year's friends together.
William Wordsworth
The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift, That no philosophy can lift.
William Wordsworth
Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.
William Wordsworth
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.
William Wordsworth