O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of read more

O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,--
Nature's observatory--whence the dell,
In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.

Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression read more

Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,
Might never reach me more!

Converse with men makes sharp the glittering wit,
But God to man doth speak in solitude.

Converse with men makes sharp the glittering wit,
But God to man doth speak in solitude.

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
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But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
And roam along, the world's tired denizen,
With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.

Solitude would be ideal if you could pick the people to avoid.

Solitude would be ideal if you could pick the people to avoid.

I am as one who is left alone at a banquet, the lights dead and
the flowers faded.

I am as one who is left alone at a banquet, the lights dead and
the flowers faded.

Whoever gives himself up to solitude,
Ah! he is soon alone.
[Ger., Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergiebt,
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Whoever gives himself up to solitude,
Ah! he is soon alone.
[Ger., Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergiebt,
Ach! der ist bald allein.]

Alone!--That worn-out word,
So idly spoken, and so coldly heard;
Yet all that poets sing, and grief read more

Alone!--That worn-out word,
So idly spoken, and so coldly heard;
Yet all that poets sing, and grief hath known,
Of hope laid waste, knells in that word--Alone!

I praise the Frenchman; his remark was shrewd,--
"How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude."
But grant read more

I praise the Frenchman; his remark was shrewd,--
"How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude."
But grant me still a friend in my retreat,
Whom I may whisper--Solitude is sweet.