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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.
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
Suffering
Mourned
Hope
Mortal
Human
Defeated
Humans
Hopes
Men
Mortals
Dues
Tears
Alone
More quotes by William Wordsworth
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.
William Wordsworth
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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Stern daughter of the voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring and reprove.
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The stars of midnight shall be dear To her and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
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The child is father of the man: And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.
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A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky - I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie Sleepless.
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
William Wordsworth
A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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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In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
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Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
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Nor less I deem that there are Powers Which of themselves our minds impress That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness
William Wordsworth
Death is the quiet haven of us all.
William Wordsworth
Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.
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In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.
William Wordsworth
Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
William Wordsworth
Mark the babe not long accustomed to this breathing world One that hath barely learned to shape a smile, though yet irrational of soul, to grasp with tiny finger - to let fall a tear And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves, To stretch his limbs, becoming, as might seem. The outward functions of intelligent man.
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Chains tie us down by land and sea And wishes, vain as mine, may be All that is left to comfort thee.
William Wordsworth