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The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
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
Grey
Seemed
Hair
Ever
Men
Hairs
Oldest
Wore
More quotes by William Wordsworth
On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing is solitude
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Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
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And through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.
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Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
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Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.
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The child is father of the man.
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Knowledge and increase of enduring joy From the great Nature that exists in works Of mighty Poets.
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Like an army defeated the snow hath retreated.
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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
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The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
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I am already kindly disposed towards you. My friendship it is not in my power to give: this is a gift which no man can make, it is not in our own power: a sound and healthy friendship is the growth of time and circumstance, it will spring up and thrive like a wildflower when these favour, and when they do not, it is in vain to look for it.
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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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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
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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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For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.
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Poetry has never brought me in enough money to buy shoestrings.
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Before us lay a painful road, And guidance have I sought in duteous love From Wisdom's heavenly Father. Hence hath flowed Patience, with trust that, whatsoe'er the way Each takes in this high matter, all may move Cheered with the prospect of a brighter day.
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