This garden has a soul, I know its moods.
Music is the medicine of the breaking heart.
Night's deepest gloom is but a calm; that soothes the weary mind: The labored days restoring balm; the comfort of mankind.
May exalting and humanizing thoughts forever accompany me, making me confident without pride, and modest without servility.
Oh for a seat in some poetic nook, Just hid with trees and sparkling with a brook!
Write me as one who loves his fellow men.