If thou art beautiful, and youth and thought endue thee with all truth-be strong;--be worthy of the grace of God.

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

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!

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.

The very flowers are sacred to the poor.

Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.

For nature then to me was all in all.