The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow; The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!
She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.
Everything is tedious when one does not read with the feeling of the Author.
Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.