Stanza 178.
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.
Stanza 179.
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined and unknown.
Stanza 185.
And what is writ, is writ.
Would it were worthier!