Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of read more

Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of two nightingales, the sweet pea that has run wild, Creation's tears in shoulder blades.

The search for truth is in one way hard and in another way easy, for it is evident that no read more

The search for truth is in one way hard and in another way easy, for it is evident that no one can master it fully or miss it wholly. But each adds a little to our knowledge of nature, and from all the facts assembled there arises a certain grandeur.

Nature, like man, sometimes weeps from gladness.

Nature, like man, sometimes weeps from gladness.

What humbugs we are, who pretend to live for Beauty, and never see the Dawn!

What humbugs we are, who pretend to live for Beauty, and never see the Dawn!

A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.

A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.

The sun, the moon and the stars would have disappeared long ago, had they happened to be within reach of read more

The sun, the moon and the stars would have disappeared long ago, had they happened to be within reach of predatory human hands.

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The read more

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.

What makes a river so restful to people is that it doesn't have any doubt - it is sure to read more

What makes a river so restful to people is that it doesn't have any doubt - it is sure to get where it is going, and it doesn't want to go anywhere else.

Rich with the spoils of nature.

Rich with the spoils of nature.