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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
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
Voice
Farthest
Seas
Thrilling
Breaking
Sea
Among
Silence
Heard
More quotes by William Wordsworth
One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
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'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
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I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts a sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, and the round ocean, and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of man.
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Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
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For all things are less dreadful than they seem.
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Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
William Wordsworth
Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
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The stars of midnight shall be dear To her and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
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No motion has she now, no force she neither hears nor sees rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones, and trees.
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The clouds that gather round the setting sun, Do take a sober colouring from an eye, That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.
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Love betters what is best
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Earth helped him with the cry of blood.
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We live by admiration, hope and love.
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Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea: Listen! the mighty being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thundereverlastingly.
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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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The child is the father of man.
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Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.
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