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I Grieved For Buonaparte

By William Wordsworth

Topics: classic

I Grieved for Buonaparte, with a vain And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood Of that Man's mind, what can it be? what food Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could 'he' gain? 'Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood. Wisdom doth live with children round her knees: Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk Of the mind's business: these are the degrees By which true Sway doth mount; this is the stalk True Power doth grow on; and her rights are these.

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"I Grieved for Buonaparte, with a vain..."

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Author:William Wordsworth

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"I Grieved for Buonaparte, with a vain..." by William Wordsworth

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William Wordsworth

About William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth (1770–1850) was an English Romantic poet who launched the movement with Samuel Taylor Coleridge in "Lyrical Ballads" (1798). His poems—including "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" and "Tintern Abbey"—championed nature, memory, and the language of common speech.

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