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, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Lord Byron
Canto IV, Stanza 178. |