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At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
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
Common
Away
Light
Perceives
Men
Fade
Fades
Length
Perceive
Dies
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As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.
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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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Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.
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But to a higher mark than song can reach, Rose this pure eloquence.
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One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.
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Worse than idle is compassion if it ends in tears and sighs.
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That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing is solitude
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I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led.
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A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?
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A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
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We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
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The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.
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Wisdom married to immortal verse.
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Imagination, which in truth Is but another name for absolute power And clearest insight, amplitude of mind, And reason, in her most exalted mood.
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