But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for humankind, Is happy as a lover.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.

O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?

O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.

There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.

Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.

The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!