Beauty Is A Relation, And The Apprehension

Lovely The Woods, Waters, Meadows, Combes, Vales, All The Air Things Wear That Build This World Of Wales.

Nothing Is So Beautiful As Spring- When Weeds, In Wheels, Shoot Long And Lovely And Lush; Thrush's Eggs Look Little Low Heavens, And Thrush Through The Echoing Timber Does So Rinse And Wring The Ear, It Strikes Like Lightnings To Hear Him Sing; The Glassy Peartree Leaves And Blooms, They Brush The Descending Blue; That Blue Is All In A Rush With Richness; The Racing Lambs Too Have Fair Their Fling. What Is All This Juice And All This Joy? A Strain Of The Earth's Sweet Being In The Beginning In Eden Garden.-have, Get, Before It Cloy.

For I Think It Is The Case With Genius That It Is Not When Quiescent So Very Much Above Mediocrity As The Difference Between The Two Might Lead Us To Think, But That It Has The Power And Privilege Of Rising From That Level To A Height Utterly Far From Mediocrity: In Other Words That Its Greatness Is That It Can Be So Great.

I Do Not Write For The Public. You Are My Public And I Hope To Convert You.

By The By, If The English Race Had Done Nothing Else, Yet If They Left The World The Notion Of A Gentleman, They Would Have Done A Great Service To Mankind.