He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,- The past unsighed for, and the future sure.

Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.

Stop thinking for once in your life!

He who feels contempt for any living thing hath faculties that he hath never used, and thought with him is in its infancy.

Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.

The clouds that gather round the setting sun, Do take a sober colouring from an eye, That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.

A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.