Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none; / Look up a second time, and, one by one, / You mark them twinkling out with silvery light, / And wonder how they could elude the sight!

Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.

Worse than idle is compassion if it ends in tears and sighs.

Nature's old felicities.

Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven; The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.

And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.

Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.