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Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
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
Earth
Despise
Dewy
Care
Cares
Abound
Heart
Thou
Dost
Wings
Ethereal
Sky
Nest
Ground
Pilgrim
Upon
Nests
Minstrel
Eye
Aspire
Minstrels
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
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For by superior energies more strict affiance in each other faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.
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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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Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou soul, that art the eternity of thought, And giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion.
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Truth takes no account of centuries.
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Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
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Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
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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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A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
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Bright was the summer's noon when quickening steps Followed each other till a dreary moor Was crossed, a bare ridge clomb, upon whose top Standing alone, as from a rampart's edge, I overlooked the bed of Windermere, Like a vast river, stretching in the sun.
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Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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We murder to dissect.
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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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Neither evil tongues, rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life, shall ever prevail against us.
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To be a Prodigal's favourite,-then, worse truth, A Miser's pensioner,-behold our lot!
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Sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.
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one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
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Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
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Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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