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That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.
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
Time
Confiding
Bloom
Owner
Owners
Kill
Crime
Hair
Without
Resplendent
More quotes by William Wordsworth
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep, by any stealth: So do not let me wear to-night away. Without thee what is all the morning's wealth? Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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And mighty poets in their misery dead.
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And when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet whence he blew Soul-animating strains,-alas! too few.
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A soul so pitiably forlorn, If such do on this earth abide, May season apathy with scorn, May turn indifference to pride And still be not unblest- compared With him who grovels, self-debarred From all that lies within the scope Of holy faith and christian hope Or, shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
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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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Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
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For all things are less dreadful than they seem.
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Before us lay a painful road, And guidance have I sought in duteous love From Wisdom's heavenly Father. Hence hath flowed Patience, with trust that, whatsoe'er the way Each takes in this high matter, all may move Cheered with the prospect of a brighter day.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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For nature then to me was all in all.
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Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
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Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.
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Neither evil tongues, rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life, shall ever prevail against us.
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This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
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Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
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Wisdom sits with children round her knees.
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Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
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