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And through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.
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
Heat
Sees
Keeps
Conflict
Law
Made
Foresaw
Calmness
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Huge and mighty forms that do not live like living men, moved slowly through the mind by day and were trouble to my dreams.
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That to this mountain-daisy's self were known The beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrown On the smooth surface of this naked stone!
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The eye— it cannot choose but see we cannot bid the ear be still our bodies feel, where'er they be, against or with our will.
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Not Chaos, not the darkest pit of lowest Erebus, nor aught of blinder vacancy, scooped out by help of dreams - can breed such fear and awe as fall upon us often when we look into our Minds, into the Mind of Man.
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Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!
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A deep distress has humanised my soul.
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Primroses, the Spring may love them Summer knows but little of them.
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Careless of books, yet having felt the power Of Nature, by the gentle agency Of natural objects, led me on to feel For passions that were not my own, and think (At random and imperfectly indeed) On man, the heart of man, and human life.
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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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Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
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Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
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One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.
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Men who can hear the Decalogue, and feel To self-reproach.
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Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn
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Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.
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Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains and of all that we behold from this green earth.
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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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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The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
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And mighty poets in their misery dead.
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