A deep distress has humanised my soul.

And mighty poets in their misery dead.

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

For by superior energies; more strict affiance in each other; faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.

The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink I heard a voice it said Drink, pretty creature, drink'

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

Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.