Two voices are there; one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.

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

Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.

And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.

Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.

Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.