A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.
To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.
The birch-bark canoe of the savage seems to me one of the most beautiful and perfect things of the kind constructed by human art.
Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue.
The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumber in its bosom.