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One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
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
Heavenly
Days
Dies
Death
Cannot
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Nature's old felicities.
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The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.
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Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
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There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.
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Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
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A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
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The wealthiest man among us is the best
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At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
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The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society.
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Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
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Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.
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The softest breeze to fairest flowers gives birth: Think not that Prudence dwells in dark abodes, She scans the future with the eye of gods.
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The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.
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Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.
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For mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
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I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts a sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, and the round ocean, and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of man.
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Free as a bird to settle where I will.
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