Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.
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.
A brotherhood of venerable trees.
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep/ Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind.
A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.