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O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.
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
Everything
Stores
Mind
Tales
Would
Gentle
Silent
Reader
Bring
Thought
Find
Tale
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Far from the world I walk, and from all care.
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One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
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The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
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And what if thou, sweet May, hast known Mishap by worm and blight If expectations newly blown Have perished in thy sight If loves and joys, while up they sprung, Were caught as in a snare Such is the lot of all the young, However bright and fair.
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Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
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A deep distress has humanised my soul.
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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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Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.
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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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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 holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
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the Mind of Man-- My haunt, and the main region of my song.
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The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.
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Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
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Death is the quiet haven of us all.
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If the time should ever come when what is now called Science, thus famliarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the Poet will lend his divine spirit to the aid the transfiguration, and will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of the household of man.
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These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
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Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
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