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 Childe Harold,
Canto iv,
Verse 178
