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True dignity abides with him alone Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, Can still suspect, and still revere himself, In lowliness of heart.
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
Heart
Dignity
Silent
Lowliness
Alone
Abides
Hours
Revere
True
Suspect
Thought
Suspects
Stills
Inward
Still
Hour
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I look for ghosts but none will force Their way to me. 'Tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Between the living and the dead.
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Thou has left behind Powers that will work for thee,-air, earth, and skies! There 's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee thou hast great allies Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
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'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.
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Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine.
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This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
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With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.
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All men feel a habitual gratitude, and something of an honorable bigotry, for the objects which have long continued to please them.
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O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
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If thou art beautiful, and youth and thought endue thee with all truth-be strong--be worthy of the grace of God.
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Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
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