Nothing in Nature is unbeautiful.

Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods.

We are self-uncertain creatures, and we may Yea, even when we know not, mix our spites And private hates with our defence of Heaven.

Jewels five-words-long, That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever.