312 ordspråk av William Wordsworth
William Wordsworth
O Nightingale, thou surely art/ A creature of a 'fiery heart'.
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O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.
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O Silence! are Man's noisy years No more than moments of thy life?
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O'er rough and smooth she trips along,/ And never looks behind;/ And sings a solitary song/ That whistles in the wind.
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Often have I sighed to measure
By myself a lonely pleasure,
Sighed to think, I read a book
Only read, perhaps, by me.
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Often have I sighed to measure By myself a lonely pleasure, Sighed to think, I read a book Only read, perhaps, by me.
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Oh, be wiser thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
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One great society alone on earth: the noble living and the noble dead
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One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.
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One in whom persuasion and belief
Had ripened into faith, and faith become
A passionate intuition.
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One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar
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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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Our noisy years seem moments in the being of the eternal silence.
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Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago.
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