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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.
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
Sorrow
Shower
Keenest
Flower
Shrinks
Sufferer
Wind
Showers
Heaviest
Faith
Affliction
Wreaths
Temples
Sufferers
Round
Pluck
Rounds
Shrink
Endure
Bind
More quotes by William Wordsworth
And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
William Wordsworth
Brothers all In honour, as in one community, Scholars and gentlemen.
William Wordsworth
Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.
William Wordsworth
What know we of the Blest above but that they sing, and that they love?
William Wordsworth
A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.
William Wordsworth
Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill The Ploughboy is whooping — anon — anon! There's joy in the mountains: There's life in the fountains Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing The rain is over and gone.
William Wordsworth
Oh, blank confusion! true epitome Of what the mighty City is herself, To thousands upon thousands of her sons, Living amid the same perpetual whirl Of trivial objects, melted and reduced To one identity.
William Wordsworth
Poetry has never brought me in enough money to buy shoestrings.
William Wordsworth
The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
William Wordsworth
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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Open-mindedness is the harvest of a quiet eye.
William Wordsworth
Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness.
William Wordsworth
Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan.
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Me this uncharted freedom tires I feel the weight of chance desires, My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
William Wordsworth
A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky - I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie Sleepless.
William Wordsworth
Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
William Wordsworth
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses A six years' Darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art.
William Wordsworth
Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.
William Wordsworth
On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Fair trains of images before me rise, Accompanied by feelings of delight Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed.
William Wordsworth
Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
William Wordsworth