Nature, As It Grows Again

O Wonderful, Wonderful, And Most Wonderful Wonderful! And Yet Again Wonderful, And After That, Out Of All Hooping.

The More Pity, That Fools May Not Speak Wisely What Wise Men Do Foolishly.

Here I And Sorrows Sit; Here Is My Throne, Bid Kings Come Bow To It.

Not All The Water In The Rough Rude Sea Can Wash The Balm From An Anointed King.

I Rather Would Entreat Thy Company; To See The Wonders Of The World Abroad, Than, Living Dully Sluggardized At Home, Wear Out Thy Youth With Shapeless Idleness.