"For not a hidden path that to the shades
Of the beloved Parnassian forest leads
Lurked undiscovered by him; not a rill
There issues from the fount of Hippocrene,
But he had traced it upward to its source,
Through open glade, dark glen, and secret dell,
Knew the gay wild-flowers on its banks, and culled
Its med'cinable herbs; yea, oft alone,
Piercing the long-neglected holy cave,
The haunt obscure of old Philosophy."
"Such cooling fruit
As the kind, habitable woods provide."
"My life is but the life of winds and tides,
No more than winds and tides can I avail."
"Is this the mighty ocean?—is this all?"
"Then bless thy secret growth, nor catch
At noise, but thrive unseen and dumb;
Keep clean, bear fruit, earn life, and watch,
Till the white-winged reapers come."
"No one hates the sea and danger more than I do; but I fear more not to do my duty to the utmost"—Sir Robert Wilson.
"The joyous birds shrouded in cheerful shade,
Their notes unto the voice attempted sweet;
Th' angelical soft trembling voices made
To th' instruments divine respondence meet.
With the low murmurs of the water's fall;
The water's fall with difference discreet,
Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call;
The gentle warbling wind low answered to all."