Oh, to be in England now that April's there.
So, fall asleep love, loved by me... for I know love, I am loved by thee.
What I aspired to be and was not, comforts me.
I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.
One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.
But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain, to dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall, and baffled, get up and begin again.
Finds progress, man's distinctive mark alone, Not God's, and not the beast's; God is, they are, Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be.
Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?
But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?
The moment eternal - just that and no more - When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture!
Measure your mind's height by the shade it casts.
What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.
What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.
Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.
How good is man's life, the mere living! How fit to employ all the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!
Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?
Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.
Ignorance is not innocence but sin.
All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.