There is a luxury in self-dispraise; And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
The child shall become father to the man.
The unconquerable pang of despised love.
She gave me eyes, she gave me ears; And humble cares, and delicate fears; A heart, the fountain of sweet tears; And love and thought and joy.
Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.
I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, and the round ocean, and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of man.