The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.

And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.

Knowing that Nature never did betray the heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, through all the years of this our life, to lead from joy to joy.

Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things: We murder to dissect.

Laying out grounds... may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.... it is to assist Nature in moving the affections... the affections of those who have the deepest perception of the beauty of Nature.

The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.