The ocean is a mighty harmonist.

Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.

The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.

The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart; he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!

No motion has she now, no force; she neither hears nor sees; rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones, and trees.

Open-mindedness is the harvest of a quiet eye.

May books and nature be their early joy!