... and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.

I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.

The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.

Babylon, Learned and wise, hath perished utterly, Nor leaves her speech one word to aid the sigh That would lament her.

Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.

Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.

Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none; / Look up a second time, and, one by one, / You mark them twinkling out with silvery light, / And wonder how they could elude the sight!