This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed.

There is creation in the eye.

Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.

Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow; The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!

Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away; less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.

The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.

Thought and theory must precede all action, that moves to salutary purposes. Yet action is nobler in itself than either thought or theory.