For nature then to me was all in all.
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.
All men feel a habitual gratitude, and something of an honorable bigotry, for the objects which have long continued to please them.
Plain living and high thinking are no more.
A primrose by the river’s brim A yellow rose was to him. And it was nothing more.
Laying out grounds may be considered a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.
Spires whose “silent finger points to heaven.”
Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love; And, even as these are well and wisely fixed, In dignity of being we ascend.
For mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite be feeble woman’s breast.
O dearer far than light and life are dear.
While all the future, for thy purer soul, With “sober certainties” of love is blest.
Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.
Like an army defeated the snow hath retreated.
My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man;.
I’m not talking about a “show me other walls of this thing” button, I mean a “stumble” button for wallbase.
Imagination, which in truth Is but another name for absolute power And clearest insight, amplitude of mind, And reason, in her most exalted mood.
On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing is solitude.
Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet.