This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

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

The vision and the faculty divine; Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.

Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.

Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.

For all things are less dreadful than they seem.

The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.