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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.
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
Look
Fades
Gentlest
Looks
Shade
Leafy
Hath
Yonder
Calls
Departing
Aspect
Tenderly
Summer
Timely
Prepared
Fade
Spring
Assumed
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True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
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The light that never was, on sea or land The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
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Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine.
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Stern daughter of the voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring and reprove.
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Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, --Or some secreted island, Heaven knows whereBut in the very world, which is the worldOf all of us, -- the place where in the endWe find our happiness, or not at all
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Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.
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We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
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Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind And worse, against ourselves.
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A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.
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We live by admiration, hope and love.
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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
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What know we of the Blest above but that they sing, and that they love?
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The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives.
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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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A Primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him And it was something more.
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Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
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A youth to whom was given So much of earth, so much of heaven.
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The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away than what it leaves behind.
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For oft, when on my couch I lie in vacant or in pensive mood they flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude
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While all the future, for thy purer soul, With sober certainties of love is blest.
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