The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.

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

Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.

The moving accident is not my trade; To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.

But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.

The unconquerable pang of despised love.

Knowing that Nature never did betray the heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, through all the years of this our life, to lead from joy to joy.