What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.

A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light

The sightless Milton, with his hair Around his placid temples curled; And Shakespeare at his side,-a freight, If clay could think and mind were weight, For him who bore the world!

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

For nature then to me was all in all.

Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge - it is as immortal as the heart of man.

Rest and be thankful.