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I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven Was blowing on my body, felt within A correspondent breeze, that gently moved With quickening virtue, but is now become A tempest, a redundant energy, Vexing its own creation.
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
Felt
Breaths
Correspondent
Become
Moved
Quickening
Body
Sweet
Redundant
Creation
Tempest
Virtue
Blowing
Within
Gently
Heaven
Breeze
Energy
Breath
Vexing
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She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be But she is in her grave, and oh The difference to me!
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There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead.
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Earth has not anything to show more fair.
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In heaven above, And earth below, they best can serve true gladness Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.
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Alas! how little can a moment show Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays: A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!
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Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee! . . . . . . Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness.
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There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.
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Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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The child is father of the man: And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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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
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Rapt into still communion that transcends The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, His mind was a thanksgiving to the power That made him it was blessedness and love!
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Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains and of all that we behold from this green earth.
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Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge - it is as immortal as the heart of man.
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Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
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