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!
A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?
Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.
Small service is true service, while it lasts.
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
The world is too much with us; late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.