...and pictured upon my mind every tree of the forest and flower of the valley. I observed with equal care the crags of the rock and the pinnacles of the...Sometimes I wandered along the mazes of the rivulet, and sometimes watched the changes of the summer clouds. To a poet nothing can be useless. Whatever is beautiful,...

...and trie pinnacles of the palace. Sometimes I wandered along the maze» cf the rivulet, and iometimes watched the changes of the fummer clouds. To a poet...; whatever is beautiful and whatever is dreadful, rnuft be familiar ro his imagination ; he mult be con verfant with all that is awfully vaft or elegantly...