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The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
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
Casts
Kindness
Shadow
Sun
Dewdrop
Protect
Daisy
Daisies
Lingering
Protects
More quotes by William Wordsworth
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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Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
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Death is the quiet haven of us all.
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Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan.
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.
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Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
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Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
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Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science
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Science appears but what in truth she is, Not as our glory and our absolute boast, But as a succedaneum, and a prop To our infirmity.
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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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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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My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
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The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
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Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.
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The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
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Before us lay a painful road, And guidance have I sought in duteous love From Wisdom's heavenly Father. Hence hath flowed Patience, with trust that, whatsoe'er the way Each takes in this high matter, all may move Cheered with the prospect of a brighter day.
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Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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The first cuckoo's melancholy cry.
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