Small service is true service, while it lasts.
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry; and these we adore; Plain living and high thinking are no more.
The very flowers are sacred to the poor.
I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, and the round ocean, and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of man.