It is the glory and good of Art, That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truth, to mouths like mine at least.

Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.

If you get simple beauty and naught else, you get about the best thing God invents.

I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.

Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.