Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.

Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.

Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours; with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.

I'm not talking about a "show me other walls of this thing" button, I mean a "stumble" button for wallbase.

A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.

Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.

The first cuckoo's melancholy cry.