What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.
The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led.
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
For oft, when on my couch I lie in vacant or in pensive mood they flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude
A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.