Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?

Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn

Let the moon shine on the in thy solitary walk; and let the misty mountain-winds be free to blow against thee.

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?

The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.

Laying out grounds... may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.... it is to assist Nature in moving the affections... the affections of those who have the deepest perception of the beauty of Nature.

Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.