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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
Without
Resplendent
Time
Confiding
Bloom
Owner
Owners
Kill
Crime
Hair
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Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.
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This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed.
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One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
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Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there, one of a mighty multitude whose way and motion is a harmony and dance magnificent.
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The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.
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At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
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Two voices are there one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
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in the mind of man, A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things.
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Yet sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up, He felt with spirit so profound.
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Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
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To character and success, two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together... humble dependence on God and manly reliance on self.
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That inward eye/ Which is the bliss of solitude.
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The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
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O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
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There is a comfort in the strength of love 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
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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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With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
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From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
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