One with more of soul in his face than words on his tongue.

... and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.

The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.

We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.

Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.

In heaven above, And earth below, they best can serve true gladness Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.

I've watched you now a full half-hour; Self-poised upon that yellow flower And, little Butterfly! Indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless! - not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again!