A youth to whom was given So much of earth, so much of heaven.
Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.
Turning, for them who pass, the common dust Of servile opportunity to gold.
A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
But how can he expect that others should Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?