William Wordsworth Quotes on Virtue
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Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
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Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness.
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The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.
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The good die first, And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust Burn to the socket.