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Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness.
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
Happiness
Prodigals
Fancies
Disrespect
Excess
Affect
Fancy
Luxury
Familiar
Prodigal
More quotes by William Wordsworth
The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink I heard a voice it said Drink, pretty creature, drink'
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Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
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Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my casement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring. * * * * * Then, little Bird, this boon confer, Come, and my requiem sing, Nor fail to be the harbinger Of everlasting spring.
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Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
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Since thy return, through days and weeks Of hope that grew by stealth, How many wan and faded cheeks Have kindled into health! The Old, by thee revived, have said, 'Another year is ours' And wayworn Wanderers, poorly fed, Have smiled upon thy flowers.
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Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet
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The first cuckoo's melancholy cry.
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In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't know what he is doing.
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We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.
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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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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose type of things through all degrees.
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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
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That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye.
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But hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity.
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Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
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Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises.
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His love was like the liberal air, embracing all, to cheer and bless.
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Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.
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