A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!

Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride.

Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there, one of a mighty multitude whose way and motion is a harmony and dance magnificent.

A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.

Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.

Knowing that Nature never did betray the heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, through all the years of this our life, to lead from joy to joy.

His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.