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Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
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
Scorn
Critic
Shakespeare
Honour
Unlocked
Critics
Honours
Keys
Frowned
Justice
Sonnet
Heart
Mindless
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How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
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Far from the world I walk, and from all care.
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A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.
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For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.
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When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign is solitude.
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Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snow-drop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
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Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!
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We murder to dissect.
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A lawyer art thou? Draw not nigh! Go, carry to some fitter place The keenness of that practised eye, The hardness of that sallow face.
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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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Wisdom married to immortal verse.
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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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O dearer far than light and life are dear.
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The world is too much with us late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.
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Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
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Earth helped him with the cry of blood.
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When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
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Sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.
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A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.
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The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.
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