"A soul so pitiably forlorn, If such do on this earth abide, May season apathy with scorn, May turn indifference to pride; And still be not unblest—compared With him who grovels, self-debarred From all that lies within the scope Of holy faith and christian hope; Or, shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost."

"Lives there a man whose sole delights Are trivial pomp and city noise, Hardening a heart that loathes or slights What every natural heart enjoys?"

"The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly."

"Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know."

"Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour."

"What is pride? A whizzing rocket That would emulate a star."

"And beauty, for confiding youth, Those shocks of passion can prepare That kill the bloom before its time; And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair."

"Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind."

"But shapes that come not at an earthly call, Will not depart when mortal voices bid."

"A cheerful life is what the Muses love, A soaring spirit is their prime delight."

"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart."

"A few strong instincts and a few plain rules, Among the herdsmen of the Alps, have wrought More for mankind at this unhappy day Then all the pride of intellect and thought?"

"Action is transitory—a step, a blow— The motion of a muscle—this way or that— 'Tis done; and in the after-vacancy We wonder at ourselves like men betrayed."

"Love had he found in huts where poor men lie; His daily teachers had been woods and rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills."

"Two Voices are there; one is of the sea, One of the mountains; each a mighty Voice."

"He sang of love, with quiet blending, Slow to begin, and never ending; Of serious faith, and inward glee; That was the song,—the song for me!"

"We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held."

"Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness."

"Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters."

"Thou has left behind Powers that will work for thee,—air, earth, and skies! There 's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind."

"Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great, is passed away."

"Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee; And was the safeguard of the west: the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty."

"Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year; And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not."

"It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea."

"Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished."

"Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow."

"Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!"

"Where lies the Land to which yon Ship must go? Fresh as a lark mounting at break of day, Festively she puts forth in trim array."

"Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn."

"The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!"

"In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is."

"Like—but oh, how different!"

"She hath smiles to earth unknown— Smiles that with motion of their own Do spread, and sink, and rise."

"But an old age serene and bright, And lovely as a Lapland night, Shall lead thee to thy grave."

"Thou, while thy babes around thee cling, Shalt show us how divine a thing A Woman may be made."

"Dear Child of Nature, let them rail!"

"The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the poet's dream."

"Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose types of things through all degrees."

"Thou unassuming Common-place Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace, Which Love makes for thee!"

"No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery."

"O Blithe newcomer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice. O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice?"

"Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through."

"Of vast circumference and gloom profound, This solitary Tree! A living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed."

"There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore."

"Hail to thee, far above the rest In joy of voice and pinion! Thou, linnet! in thy green array, Presiding spirit here to-day, Dost lead the revels of the May; And this is thy dominion."

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

"Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet."

"O for a single hour of that Dundee, Who on that day the word of onset gave!"

"Rapine, avarice, expense This is idolatry; and these we adore: Plain living and high thinking are no more: The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws."

"Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!"