Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.
Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!- The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.
There is creation in the eye.
Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.
Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.