Nothing is so beautiful as spring -- when weeds, in wheels, shoot long >>
What would the world be, once bereft of wet and wildness? Let them be >>
Towery city and branching between towers; Cuckoo-echoing, bell-swarmed >>
There is in every American, I think, something of the old Daniel Boone >>
Wildness and silence disappeared from the countryside, sweetness fell >>
We need the tonic of wildness, to wade sometimes in marshes where the >>
What would the world be, once bereft of wet and wildness? Let them be left. O let them be left, wildness and wet; Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.