To fly from, need not be to hate, makind: All are not fit with them to stir and toil, Nor is it discontent to keep the mind Deep in its fountain.
solitude
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more
nature poetry solitude
Then stirs the feeling infinite, so feltIn solitude, where we are alone.
loneliness solitude