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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
Alone
Suffering
Mourned
Hope
Mortal
Human
Defeated
Humans
Hopes
Men
Mortals
Dues
Tears
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Science appears but what in truth she is, Not as our glory and our absolute boast, But as a succedaneum, and a prop To our infirmity.
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A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
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How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
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Babylon, Learned and wise, hath perished utterly, Nor leaves her speech one word to aid the sigh That would lament her.
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Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
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Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, --Or some secreted island, Heaven knows whereBut in the very world, which is the worldOf all of us, -- the place where in the endWe find our happiness, or not at all
William Wordsworth
The memory of the just survives in Heaven.
William Wordsworth
But who shall parcel out His intellect by geometric rules, Split like a province into round and square?
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Miss not the occasion by the forelock take that subtle power, the never-halting time.
William Wordsworth
the Mind of Man-- My haunt, and the main region of my song.
William Wordsworth
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.
William Wordsworth
Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.
William Wordsworth
One with more of soul in his face than words on his tongue.
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One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
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The world is too much with us late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.
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On a fair prospect some have looked, And felt, as I have heard them say, As if the moving time had been A thing as steadfast as the scene On which they gazed themselves away.
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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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Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
William Wordsworth
To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
William Wordsworth