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Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
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
Dirge
Stern
Winter
Loves
Sound
Love
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More quotes by William Wordsworth
Small service is true service, while it lasts.
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A babe, by intercourse of touch I held mute dialogues with my Mother's heart.
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But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for humankind, Is happy as a lover.
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One impulse from a vernal wood
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And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.
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We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
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Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind And worse, against ourselves.
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Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
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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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The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
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And what if thou, sweet May, hast known Mishap by worm and blight If expectations newly blown Have perished in thy sight If loves and joys, while up they sprung, Were caught as in a snare Such is the lot of all the young, However bright and fair.
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The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.
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Bright was the summer's noon when quickening steps Followed each other till a dreary moor Was crossed, a bare ridge clomb, upon whose top Standing alone, as from a rampart's edge, I overlooked the bed of Windermere, Like a vast river, stretching in the sun.
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Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
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While all the future, for thy purer soul, With sober certainties of love is blest.
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She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.
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The sunshine is a glorious birth But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
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Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
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Then blame not those who, by the mightiest lever Known to the moral world, Imagination.
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