Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade — William Wordsworth

"Much converse do I find in thee, Historian of my infancy! Float near me; do not yet depart! Dead times revive in thee: Thou bringst, gay creature as thou art! A solemn image to my heart."

"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."

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

"Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!"

"Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he That every man in arms should wish to be?"

"I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee."