Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth in her fair page.
Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
Sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.
Eloquence is the poetry of prose.
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.