Thou unassuming common-place
Of Nature, with that homely face."

"Oft on the dappled turf at ease
I sit, and play with similes,
Loose types of things through all degrees."

Pleasures newly found are sweet
When they lie about our feet.

"To be a prodigal's favourite - then, worse truth,
A miser's pensioner - behold our lot!
O man, that from thy fair and shining youth
Age might but take the things youth needed not!"

"There's not a nook within this solemn pass
But were an apt confessional for one
Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone,
That life is but a tale of morning grass
Withered at eve."