Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.
He who destroys a good book kills reason itself.
Farewell happy fields, Where joy forever dwells: Hail, horrors, hail.
The childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day.
The sacred influence of light appears.
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.