O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?

And suddenly all your troubles melt away, all your worries are gone, and it is for no reason other than the look in your partner's eyes. Yes, sometimes life and love really is that simple.

Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!

Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.

It is the 1st mild day of March. Each minute sweeter than before... there is a blessing in the air.

Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away; less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.

For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.