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Up! up! my friend, and quit your books, Or surely you 'll grow double! Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks! Why all this toil and trouble?
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
Books
Quit
Clear
Quitting
Book
Surely
Looks
Friendship
Friend
Grow
Trouble
Toil
Grows
Double
More quotes by William Wordsworth
The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.
William Wordsworth
Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
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Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
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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.
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Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
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For by superior energies more strict affiance in each other faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.
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Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!
William Wordsworth
Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
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A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.
William Wordsworth
'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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Either still I find Some imperfection in the chosen theme, Or see of absolute accomplishment Much wanting, so much wanting, in myself, That I recoil and droop, and seek repose In listlessness from vain perplexity, Unprofitably travelling towards the grave.
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Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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I'll teach my boy the sweetest things I'll teach him how the owlet sings.
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Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.
William Wordsworth
Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
William Wordsworth
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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The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.
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Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
William Wordsworth
Primroses, the Spring may love them Summer knows but little of them.
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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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