Failure Is, In A Sense, The Highway

A Drainless Shower Of Light Is Poesy: 'tis The Supreme Of Power; 'tis Might Half Slumbering On Its Own Right Arm.

Pleasure Is Oft A Visitant; But Pain Clings Cruelly To Us.

What Is There In Thee, Moon! That Thou Should'st Move My Heart So Potently?

A Man's Life Of Any Worth Is A Continual Allegory.

I Came To Feel How Far Above All Fancy, Pride, And Fickle Maidenhood, All Earthly Pleasure, All Imagined Good, Was The Warm Tremble Of A Devout Kiss.