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Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!- The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.
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
Pure
Delight
Truth
Loves
Nobler
Earth
Praise
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Care
Eternity
Blessings
Made
Blessing
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Love
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Poets
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Heavenly
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Lays
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Milton, thou should'st be living at this hour.
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To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye.
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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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His love was like the liberal air, embracing all, to cheer and bless.
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The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.
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The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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Far from the world I walk, and from all care.
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When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my Country--am I to be blamed?
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But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
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The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.
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Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
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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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Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
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We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love And, even as these are well and wisely fixed, In dignity of being we ascend.
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That to this mountain-daisy's self were known The beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrown On the smooth surface of this naked stone!
William Wordsworth
How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
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Alas! how little can a moment show Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays: A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!
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Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!
William Wordsworth