That inward eye/ Which is the bliss of solitude.

The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.

At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.

The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about; and should the chosen guide Be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way.

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.

Truth takes no account of centuries.

Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.