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The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
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
Quiet
Holy
Time
Breathless
Nun
Adoration
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
William Wordsworth
Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
William Wordsworth
Yet tears to human suffering are due And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.
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Where the statue stood Of Newton, with his prism and silent face, The marble index of a mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of thought alone.
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Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!
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Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.
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Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep/ Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind.
William Wordsworth
He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,- The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
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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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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.
William Wordsworth
May books and nature be their early joy!
William Wordsworth
Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
William Wordsworth
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
William Wordsworth
Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.
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He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
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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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The child is the father of man.
William Wordsworth
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
William Wordsworth
Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, --Or some secreted island, Heaven knows whereBut in the very world, which is the worldOf all of us, -- the place where in the endWe find our happiness, or not at all
William Wordsworth