Sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.

When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.

Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.

A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.

Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn

The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune.

The education of circumstances is superior to that of tuition.