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
George Gordon Byron
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 mind hate deep fly fountain discontent
poetry solitude nature
Then stirs the feeling infinite, so feltIn solitude, where we are alone.
solitude loneliness
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