Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!
Oft in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.
Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!- The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
The sightless Milton, with his hair Around his placid temples curled; And Shakespeare at his side,-a freight, If clay could think and mind were weight, For him who bore the world!