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Me this uncharted freedom tires I feel the weight of chance desires, My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
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
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Repose
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Chance
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Freedom
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Desires
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Ever
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Tires
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Uncharted
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Two voices are there one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
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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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Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither.
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...one interior life in which all beings live with God, themselves are God, existing in the mighty whole, indistinguishable as the cloudless east is from the cloudless west, when all the hemisphere is one cerulean blue.
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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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In years that bring the philosophic mind.
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Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.
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The moving accident is not my trade To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
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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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The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.
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The budding rose above the rose full blown.
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The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
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Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
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