...one interior life in which all beings live with God, themselves are God, existing in the mighty whole, indistinguishable as the cloudless east is from the cloudless west, when all the hemisphere is one cerulean blue.

Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?

Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.

Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains; and of all that we behold from this green earth.

Habit rules the unreflecting herd.

Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.

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