How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
Habit rules the unreflecting herd.
In ourselves our safety must be sought. By our own right hand it must be wrought.
In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard seat And birds and flowers once more to greet. . . .
Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?