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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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
Twenties
Management
Childhood
Sweet
Days
Long
Childish
Twenty
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Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
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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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Men who can hear the Decalogue, and feel To self-reproach.
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The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
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The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!
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I've watched you now a full half-hour Self-poised upon that yellow flower And, little Butterfly! Indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless! - not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again!
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Plain living and high thinking are no more.
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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
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Be mild, and cleave to gentle things, thy glory and thy happiness be there.
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The wealthiest man among us is the best
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Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains and of all that we behold from this green earth.
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Serene will be our days, and bright and happy will our nature be, when love is an unerring light, and joy its own security.
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And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.
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The Eagle, he was lord above
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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.
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I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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Free as a bird to settle where I will.
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Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.
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