Oh, nature's noblest gift, my grey goose quill, Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will, Torn from the parent bird to form a pen, That mighty instrument of little men
Lord Byron
Ye stars! Which are the poetry of Heaven, If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires,'t is to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you.
poetry fate men nature heaven aspirations bright stars read state great
gifts men nature gift thoughts parent bird pen form slave
I love not man the less, but Nature more.
man nature love
As long as I retain my feeling and my passion for Nature, I can partly soften or subdue my other passions and resist or endure those of others.
nature
Sighing that Nature formed but one such man, And broke the die, in molding Sheridan.
man nature
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