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And suddenly all your troubles melt away, all your worries are gone, and it is for no reason other than the look in your partner's eyes. Yes, sometimes life and love really is that simple.
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
Really
Gone
Worries
Love
Simple
Troubles
Life
Eye
Partner
Away
Partners
Reason
Suddenly
Look
Worry
Looks
Trouble
Sometimes
Eyes
Melt
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Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.
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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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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
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Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
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A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
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I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.
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All men feel a habitual gratitude, and something of an honorable bigotry, for the objects which have long continued to please them.
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Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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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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In ourselves our safety must be sought. By our own right hand it must be wrought.
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We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
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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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Free as a bird to settle where I will.
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Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.
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Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
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The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive!
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Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
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Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
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How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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