The Opinion I Have Of The Generality

... Who Alive Can Say 'thou Art No Poet - Mayst Not Tell Thy Dreams'? Since Every Man Whose Soul Is Not A Clod Hath Visions, And Would Speak, If He Had Loved, And Been Well Nurtured In His Mother Tongue.

In A Drear-nighted December, Too Happy, Happy Tree, Thy Branches Ne'er Remember Their Green Felicity.

I Find I Cannot Exist Without Poetry

Was It A Vision Or A Waking Dream? Fled Is That Music--do I Wake Or Sleep?

I Compare Human Life To A Large Mansion Of Many Apartments, Two Of Which I Can Only Describe, The Doors Of The Rest Being As Yet Shut Upon Me.