Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.

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

Rest and be thankful.

[Mathematics] is an independent world created out of pure intelligence.

This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room; And hermits are contented with their cells.

The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.