The heart grows weary after a little Of what it loved for a little while.

But far, oh, far as passionate eye can reach, And long, ah, long as rapturous eye can cling, The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold.

Youth, have no pity; leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.

My candle burns at both ends; it will not last the night; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!

Life isn't all beer and skittles; few of us have touched a skittle in years.

Lord I do fear / Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.

Beauty in all things-no, we cannot hope for that; but some place set apart for it.