Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.

Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.

There is creation in the eye.

I should dread to disfigure the beautiful ideal of the memories of illustrious persons with incongruous features, and to sully the imaginative purity of classical works with gross and trivial recollections.

But trailing clouds of glory do we come, From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!.

The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.

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