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A crystal river
Diaphanous because it travels slowly;
Soft is the music that would charm forever;
The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.
A mind forever
Voyaging through strange seas of though alone.
- on Newton's statue in Cambridge, Massachusetts
A silver line, that from the brow to the crown,
And in the middle, parts the braided hair,
Just serves to show how delicate a soil
The golden harvest grows in.
An old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.
As a light,
And pliant harebell swinging in the breeze
On some grey rock--its birth-place--so had I
Wanton'd, fast-rooted in the ancient tower
Of my beloved country, wishing not
A happier fortune, than to wither there.
Balm that tames all anguish, saint that evil thoughts and aims takest away, and into souls dost creep, like to a breeze from heaven.
But Man is thy most awful instrument
In working out a pure intent,
Thou cloth'st the wicked in their dazzling mail,
And for thy righteous purpose they prevail.
- Poems dedicated to "National Independence and Liberty", ode XLV (version in later editions)
But thy most dreaded instrument
In working out a pure intent,
Is man,--arrayed for mutual slaughter,--
Yea, Carnage is Thy daughter.
- Poems dedicated to "National Independence and Liberty", ode XLV (suppressed in later editions)
Come forth into the light of things; let nature be your teacher.
Death is the quiet haven of us all.
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a mother's mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely nurse doth all she can
To make her foster child, her inmate man,
Forget the glories he hath known
And that imperial palace whence he came.
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.
Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.
For all things are less dreadful than they seem.
From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
God approves the depth, but not the tumult, of the soul.
Graceful, when it pleased him, smooth and still
As the mute swan that floats adown the stream,
And on the waters of th' unruffled lake,
Anchors her quiet beauty.
Hail, twilight! sovereign, of one peaceful hour!
He is oft the wisest man who is not wise at all.
He murmurs near the running brooks a music sweeter than their own.
He who feels contempt for any living thing hath faculties that he hath never used, and thought with him is in its infancy.
Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
- [Babies : Childhood : Children]
Hope rules a land forever green,
All powers that serve the bright-eyed queen
And confident and gay;
Clouds at her bidding disappear
Points she to aught?--the bliss draws near
And fancy smooths the way.
How many undervalue the power of simplicity! But it is the real key to the heart.
I should dread to disfigure the beautiful ideal of the memories of illustrious persons with incongruous features, and to sully the imaginative purity of classical works with gross and trivial recollections.
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