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The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.
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
Tears
Growth
Common
Mother
Earth
Suffices
Humblest
Mirth
Motherhood
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But He is risen, a later star of dawn.
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If the time should ever come when what is now called Science, thus famliarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the Poet will lend his divine spirit to the aid the transfiguration, and will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of the household of man.
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But to a higher mark than song can reach, Rose this pure eloquence.
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The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
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That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present, to live better in the future.
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Meek Walton's heavenly memory.
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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
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A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
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Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art Close up these barren leaves Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.
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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
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For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.
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