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Delivered from the galling yoke of time.
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
Galling
Yoke
Delivered
Time
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A brotherhood of venerable trees.
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Departing summer hath assumed An aspect tenderly illumed, The gentlest look of spring That calls from yonder leafy shade Unfaded, yet prepared to fade, A timely carolling.
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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
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Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.
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The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
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Faith is a passionate intuition.
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Everything is tedious when one does not read with the feeling of the Author.
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The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
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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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Milton, thou should'st be living at this hour.
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But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise,O Nature! we are thine.
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In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
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Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn
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A babe, by intercourse of touch I held mute dialogues with my Mother's heart.
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Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.
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Neither evil tongues, rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life, shall ever prevail against us.
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A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
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With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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Then blame not those who, by the mightiest lever Known to the moral world, Imagination.
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A deep distress has humanised my soul.
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