The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart; he never felt The witching of the soft blue sky!

Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!

I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame the earth seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire--why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.

The cattle are grazing,Their heads never raising;There are forty feeding like one!

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.