Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet.

O for a single hour of that Dundee, Who on that day the word of onset gave!

Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.

Rapine, avarice, expense This is idolatry; and these we adore: Plain living and high thinking are no more: The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our…

I felt a joy in my heart, which seemed filled with love, love for the sun, the snow, the wind and the hills, love for everything around me. It was in this mood…

Sweet is the breath of vernal shower, The bee's collected treasures sweet, Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet The still small voice of gratitude.

I know the joy of fishes in the river through my own joy, as I go walking along the same river.