I am already kindly disposed towards you. My friendship it is not in my power to give: this is a gift which no man can make, it is not in our own power: a sound and healthy friendship is the growth of time and circumstance, it will spring up and thrive like a wildflower when these favour, and when they do not, it is in vain to look for it.

Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect

Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.

From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.

The light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet's dream.

That inward eye/ Which is the bliss of solitude.

To be a Prodigal's favourite,-then, worse truth, A Miser's pensioner,-behold our lot!