I never saw so sweet a face. As that I stood before. My heart has left it dwelling place ... and can return no more.

So dull and dark are the November days. The lazy mist high up the evening curled, And now the morn quite hides in smoke and haze; The place we occupy seems all the world.

I long for scenes where man has never trod; A place where woman never smil'd or wept; There to abide with my creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept: Untroubling and untroubled where I lie; The grass below--above the vaulted sky.

I found the poems in the fields And only wrote them down

The best way to avoid a bad action is by doing a good one, for there is no difficulty in the world like that of trying to do nothing.

If life had a second edition, how I would correct the proofs.

I long for scenes where man has never trod;... There to abide with my Creator, God.