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... and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
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
Pleasure
Find
Dimness
Shall
Stars
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Wisdom and spirit of the Universe!
William Wordsworth
How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
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Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
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The very flowers are sacred to the poor.
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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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In heaven above, And earth below, they best can serve true gladness Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.
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Knowledge and increase of enduring joy From the great Nature that exists in works Of mighty Poets.
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She gave me eyes, she gave me ears And humble cares, and delicate fears A heart, the fountain of sweet tears And love and thought and joy.
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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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The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.
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To be a Prodigal's favourite,-then, worse truth, A Miser's pensioner,-behold our lot!
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A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.
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And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy because We have been glad of yore.
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There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead.
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Meek Walton's heavenly memory.
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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.
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
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The monumental pomp of age Was with this goodly personage A stature undepressed in size, Unbent, which rather seemed to rise In open victory o'er the weight Of seventy years, to loftier height.
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