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William Wordsworth

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Oft on the dappled turf at ease
I sit, and play with similes,
Loose types of things through all degrees.
--
To the Same Flower (the Daisy), st. 2 (1805).

 
William Wordsworth

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INGLORIOUS friend! most confident I am
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Meet is it changes should control
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Glory be to God for dappled things—
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Ghosts of melodious prophesyings rave
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Bronze clarions awake, and faintly bruit,
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And, from the turf, a lullaby doth pass
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Let the human mind loose. It must be loose. It will be loose. Superstition and dogmatism cannot confine it.

 
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