In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be; Where all the noises, that on peace intrude, Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee, Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.

Ah, words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away.

In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be; Where all the noises, that on peace intrude, Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee, Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.

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.

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

He could not die when the trees were green, For he loved the time too well.

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