My day is done, and I am like a boat drawn on the beach, listening to the dance-music of the tide in the evening.

Not hammer-strokes, but dance of the water, sings the pebbles into perfection.

The music of the far-away summer flutters around the Autumn seeking its former nest.

Not yesterday I learned to know,The love of bare November days,Before the coming of the snow.

The loss of these tastes [for poetry and music] is a loss of happiness, and may possibly be injurious to the intellect, and more probably to the moral character, by enfeebling the emotional part of our nature.

If I had my life to live over again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once a week.