Shakespeare was of us, Milton was of us, Burns, Shelley, were with us. They watch from their graves!
You never know what life means till you die; even throughout life, tis death that makes life live.
If you get simple beauty and naught else, you get about the best thing God invents.
Days decrease, / And autumn grows, autumn in everything.
All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.
What I aspired to be and was not, comforts me.