To be ungrateful is to be unnatural. The head may be thus guilty, not the heart.
That which happens to the soil when it ceases to be cultivated by the social man happens to man himself when he foolishly forsakes society for solitude; the brambles grow up in his desert heart.
Mind is the partial side of men; the heart is everything.
Very nice couplet, although there are dull stretches.
Memory always obeys the commands of the heart.