The Eagle, he was lord above

Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.

Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains; and of all that we behold from this green earth.

Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan.

The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society.

In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration: - feelings, too, Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love.

Oft in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.