Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.

Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect

Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.

Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.

The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea: Listen! the mighty being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thundereverlastingly.

The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.