For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.
Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.
Turning, for them who pass, the common dust Of servile opportunity to gold.
The education of circumstances is superior to that of tuition.
The vision and the faculty divine; Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.