The light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet's dream.

The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.

Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.

Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!

To be young was very heaven!

Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.