“One Lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide,Taught both by what she shews, and what conceals,Never to blend our pleasure or our prideWith sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.”

“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.”

“The eye--it cannot choose but see;We cannot bid the ear be still;Our bodies feel, where'er they be,Against or with our will.”

“She died, and left to meThis heath, this calm and quiet scene,The memory of what has been,And never more will be.”

“When from our better selves we have too longBeen parted by the hurrying world, and droop,Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired,How gracious, how benign, is Solitude”

“Though inland far we be,Our souls have sight of that immortal seaWhich brought us hither.”

“Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,Hath had elsewhere its setting,And cometh from afar:Not in entire forgetfulness,And not in utter nakedness,But trailing clouds of glory do we come”