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I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, and the round ocean, and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of man.
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one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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One solace yet remains for us who came Into this world in days when story lacked Severe research, that in our hearts we know How, for exciting youth's heroic flame, Assent is power, belief the soul of fact.
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But He is risen, a later star of dawn.
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To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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. . .this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 't is her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that 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 e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings.
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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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These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
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Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!
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Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snow-drop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
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That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.
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A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.
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"What is good for a bootless bene?" With these dark words begins my tale; And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
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Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science
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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art; Close up these barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.
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I'm not talking about a "show me other walls of this thing" button, I mean a "stumble" button for wallbase.
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How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves; And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives.
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The first cuckoo's melancholy cry.
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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.