Wisdom and spirit of the Universe!

Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.

The world is too much with us; late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.

Plain living and high thinking are no more.

Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.

What is a Poet? He is a man speaking to men: a man, it is true, endued with more lively sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness, who has a greater knowledge of human nature, and a more comprehensive soul, than are supposed to be common among mankind; a man pleased with his own passions and volitions, and who rejoices more than other men in the spirit of life that is in him; delighting to contemplate similar volitions and passions as manifested in the goings-on of the universe, and habitually impelled to create them where he does not find them.