Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.

Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.

The world is too much with us late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.

Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.

With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.

For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.

Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.

That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.

That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.