Nathaniel Parker Willis

“ Strange, that they fill not, with their tranquil tone,
The spirit, walking in their midst alone.
There's no contentment in a world like this,
Save in forgetting the immortal dream;
We may not gaze upon the stars of bliss,
That through the cloud-rifts radiantly stream ”

“ With its slight fingers full of leaves and flowers;
And with it comes a thirst to be away,
Wasting in wood-paths its voluptuous hours; ”