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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.
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
None
Dead
Force
Living
Apparitions
Ever
Falsely
Look
Ghosts
Looks
Intercourse
Way
Ghost
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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Fair trains of images before me rise, Accompanied by feelings of delight Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed.
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Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue.
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And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy because We have been glad of yore.
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The budding rose above the rose full blown.
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Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
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The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
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We Poets in our youth begin in gladness But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
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The monumental pomp of age Was with this goodly personage A stature undepressed in size, Unbent, which rather seemed to rise In open victory o'er the weight Of seventy years, to loftier height.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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Monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial.
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Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!
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My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
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And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.
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