Write to me frequently & the longest letters possible; never mind whether you have facts or no to communicate; fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.

Wisdom married to immortal verse.

By happy chance we saw A twofold image: on a grassy bank A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood Another and the same!

The world is too much with us; late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.

Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.

Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.

Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, --Or some secreted island, Heaven knows whereBut in the very world, which is the worldOf all of us, -- the place where in the endWe find our happiness, or not at all