Dreams, books, are each a world and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good. Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
Dreams, books, are each a world and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good. Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
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.
The mightiest lever known to the moral world, imagination.
That blessed mood, In which the burden of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened.
As thou these ashes, little brook, wilt bear Into the Avon, Avon to the tide Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas, Into main ocean they, this deed accursed An emblem yields to friends and enemies How the bold teacher's doctrine, sanctified By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.
Not in Utopia, - subterranean fields, -Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where But in the very world, which is the world Of all of us, - the place where, in the end, We find our happiness, or not at all.
Strongest minds; Are often those of whom the noisy world; Hears least.
My apprehensions come in crowds I dread the rustling of the grass The very shadows of the clouds Have power to shake me as they pass I question things and do not find One that will answer to my mind And all the world appears unkind.
The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.
The sightless Milton, with his hair Around his placid temples curled And Shakespeare at his side,a freight, If clay could think and mind were weight, For him who bore the world.
When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign in solitude.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories