“Often rebuked, yet always back returning / To those first feelings that were born with me, / And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning / For idle dreams of things which cannot be.”

“I’ll walk, but not in old heroic traces, / And not in paths of high morality, / And not among the half-distinguished faces, / The clouded forms of long-past history.”

“I’ll walk where my own nature would be leading: / It vexes me to choose another guide: / Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding; / Where the wild wind blows on the mountain side.”

“To-day, I will seek not the shadowy region; / Its unsustaining vastness waxes drear; / And visions rising, legion after legion, / Bring the unreal world too strangely near.”