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Far from the world I walk, and from all care.
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
World
Walk
Walks
Care
Life
More quotes by William Wordsworth
The Poet, gentle creature as he is, Hath, like the Lover, his unruly times His fits when he is neither sick nor well, Though no distress be near him but his own Unmanageable thoughts.
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Departing summer hath assumed An aspect tenderly illumed, The gentlest look of spring That calls from yonder leafy shade Unfaded, yet prepared to fade, A timely carolling.
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
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There is a luxury in self-dispraise And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
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Knowledge and increase of enduring joy From the great Nature that exists in works Of mighty Poets.
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The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can.
William Wordsworth
We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
William Wordsworth
Action is transitory, a step, a blow, The motion of a muscle, this way or that, 'Tis done--And in the after-vacancy, We wonder at ourselves, like men betrayed.
William Wordsworth
Delivered from the galling yoke of time.
William Wordsworth
These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
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We live by admiration, hope and love.
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She gave me eyes, she gave me ears And humble cares, and delicate fears A heart, the fountain of sweet tears And love and thought and joy.
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Science appears but what in truth she is, Not as our glory and our absolute boast, But as a succedaneum, and a prop To our infirmity.
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With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming commonplace Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace Which love makes for thee!
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Monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial.
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing is solitude
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I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
William Wordsworth
Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
William Wordsworth
Me this uncharted freedom tires I feel the weight of chance desires, My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
William Wordsworth