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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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
Love
Recalled
Remembrance
Faithful
Thee
Forget
Mind
More quotes by William Wordsworth
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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Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.
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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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Stop thinking for once in your life!
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What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
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poetry is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge
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The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind And worse, against ourselves.
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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Laying out grounds... may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.... it is to assist Nature in moving the affections... the affections of those who have the deepest perception of the beauty of Nature.
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He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
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The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away than what it leaves behind.
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That best portion of a man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.
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Stern daughter of the voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring and reprove.
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She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
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Wisdom sits with children round her knees.
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But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
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Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn
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The moving accident is not my trade To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
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