Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.

The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart; he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!

And mighty poets in their misery dead.

And I am happy when I sing.

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.

When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign is solitude.

And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.