I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led.

I'll teach my boy the sweetest things; I'll teach him how the owlet sings.

Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.

The first cuckoo's melancholy cry.

The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.

But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.

One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.