Alas! Is Even Love Too Weak To

Say, Has Some Wet Bird-haunted English Lawn Lent It The Music Of Its Trees At Dawn?

Sand-strewn Caverns, Cool And Deep, Where The Winds Are All Asleep; Where The Spent Lights Quiver And Gleam; Where The Salt Weed Sways In The Stream.

However, If I Shall Live To Be Eighty I Shall Probably Be The Only Person Left In England Who Reads Anything But Newspapers And Scientific Publications.

Art Still Has Truth. Take Refuge There.

But The Idea Of Science And Systematic Knowledge Is Wanting To Our Whole Instruction Alike, And Not Only To That Of Our Business Class ... In Nothing Do England And The Continent At The Present Moment More Strikingly Differ Than In The Prominence Which Is Now Given To The Idea Of Science There, And The Neglect In Which This Idea Still Lies Here; A Neglect So Great That We Hardly Even Know The Use Of The Word Science In Its Strict Sense, And Only Employ It In A Secondary And Incorrect Sense.