How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.

O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.

For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.

The first cuckoo's melancholy cry.

Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.

Men who can hear the Decalogue, and feel To self-reproach.