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A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
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
Cheerful
Prime
Delight
Spirit
Love
Muses
Life
Soaring
Soar
Muse
More quotes by William Wordsworth
The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
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Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source, The rapt one, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth: And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth.
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To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
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It is the 1st mild day of March. Each minute sweeter than before... there is a blessing in the air.
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And through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.
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One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
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Give all thou canst high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.
William Wordsworth
True dignity abides with him alone Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, Can still suspect, and still revere himself, In lowliness of heart.
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'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.
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No motion has she now, no force she neither hears nor sees rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones, and trees.
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She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.
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Habit rules the unreflecting herd.
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Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose type of things through all degrees.
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Brothers all In honour, as in one community, Scholars and gentlemen.
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A tale in everything.
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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.
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Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan.
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Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet.
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One solace yet remains for us who came Into this world in days when story lacked Severe research, that in our hearts we know How, for exciting youth's heroic flame, Assent is power, belief the soul of fact.
William Wordsworth
Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
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