If There Ever Comes A Time When

The Heart Less Bounding At Emotion New, The Hope, Once Crushed, Less Quick To Spring Again.

Most Men In A Brazen Prison Live, Where, In The Sun's Hot Eye, With Heads Bent O'er Their Toil, They Languidly Their Lives To Some Unmeaning Taskwork Give, Dreaming Of Nought Beyond Their Prison-wall.

I Am A Liberal, Yet I Am A Liberal Tempered By Experience, Reflexion, And Renouncement, And I Am, Above All, A Believer In Culture.

Bald As The Bare Mountain Tops Are Bald, With A Baldness Full Of Grandeur.

The Future Of Poetry Is Immense, Because In Poetry, Where It Is Worthy Of Its High Destinies, Our Race, As Time Goes On, Will Find An Ever Surer And Surer Stay ... More And More Mankind Will Discover That We Have To Turn To Poetry To Interpret Life For Us, To Console Us, To Sustain Us.