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He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
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
Running
Music
Murmurs
Sweeter
Brooks
Near
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet.
William Wordsworth
Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
William Wordsworth
I am already kindly disposed towards you. My friendship it is not in my power to give: this is a gift which no man can make, it is not in our own power: a sound and healthy friendship is the growth of time and circumstance, it will spring up and thrive like a wildflower when these favour, and when they do not, it is in vain to look for it.
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For by superior energies more strict affiance in each other faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.
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Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
William Wordsworth
The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive!
William Wordsworth
Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.
William Wordsworth
A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
William Wordsworth
My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began So is it now I am a man So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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Plain living and high thinking are no more. The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws.
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The light that never was, on sea or land The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
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A brotherhood of venerable trees.
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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.
William Wordsworth
True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
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The clouds that gather round the setting sun, Do take a sober colouring from an eye, That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.
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The mysteries that cups of flowers infold And all the gorgeous sights which fairies do behold.
William Wordsworth
Great men have been among us hands that penn'd And tongues that utter'd wisdom--better none
William Wordsworth
Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
William Wordsworth
The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
William Wordsworth