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I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led.
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
Streams
Wherever
Rivers
Lonely
Mountain
Deep
Sides
Bounded
Nature
Mountains
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To character and success, two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together... humble dependence on God and manly reliance on self.
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The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard seat And birds and flowers once more to greet. . . .
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Take the sweet poetry of life away, and what remains behind?
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Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.
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Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.
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Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
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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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Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.
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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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Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there, one of a mighty multitude whose way and motion is a harmony and dance magnificent.
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It is the 1st mild day of March. Each minute sweeter than before... there is a blessing in the air.
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