A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.

Small service is true service, while it lasts.

That inward eye/ Which is the bliss of solitude.

Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.

The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.

Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.