A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one; the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky - I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie Sleepless.

Laying out grounds... may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.... it is to assist Nature in moving the affections... the affections of those who have the deepest perception of the beauty of Nature.

The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink I heard a voice it said Drink, pretty creature, drink'

To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.

Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.