Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned,
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade
Of that which once was great, is passed away.
The light that never was, on sea or land,
The consecration, and the poet's dream.
Three sleepless nights I passed in sounding on,
Through words and things, a dim and perilous way.
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