There Is Nothing Insignificant-nothing.

And To Be Wroth With One We Love…doth Work Like Madness In The Brain.

All Nature Seems At Work. Slugs Leave Their Lair The Bees Are Stirring, Birds Are On The Wing, And Winter Slumbering In The Open Air, Wears On His Smiling Face A Dream Of Spring.

I May Not Hope From Outward Forms To Win / The Passion And The Life, Whose Fountains Are Within.

A Stately Pleasure-dome Decree.

Never To See Or Describe Any Interesting Appearance In Nature, Without Connecting It By Dim Analogies With The Moral World, Proves Faintness Of Impression. Nature Has Her Proper Interest; & He Will Know What It Is, Who Believes & Feels, That Every Thing Has A Life Of It's Own, & That We Are All One Life.