If the time should ever come when what is now called Science, thus famliarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the Poet will lend his divine spirit to the aid the transfiguration, and will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of the household of man.

Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science

All men feel a habitual gratitude, and something of an honorable bigotry, for the objects which have long continued to please them.

Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The child is father of the man.

And I am happy when I sing.

The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about; and should the chosen guide Be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way.