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My whole life I have lived in pleasant thought, As if life's business were a summer
mood ; As if all needful things would come unsought To genial faith, still rich in
genial good ; But how can He expect that others should Build for him, sow for him
No thoughts hath he but thoughts that pass Light as the wind along the grass.
Can this be He who hither came In secret, like a smothered flame ? O'er whom
such thankful tears were shed For shelter, and a poor Man's bread ! God loves
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms,
were then to me An appetite : a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter
charm, By thought supplied, or any interest Unborrowed from the eye. — That
... 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 ...
Dying insensibly away From human thoughts and purposes, The building seems,
wall, roof, and tower To bow to some transforming power, And blend with the
surrounding trees. Deep-sighing as he passed along, Quoth Peter, " In the shire
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the kitten of the filling leaves bp[y willam words worth
My favorite is "Solitary Reaper". When I first read it, I fell in love with the poem. It's like Wordsworth wrote it for me only.
I always feel understood and totally embraced everytime I read this poem and walk away with a full heart.