A Thing Of Beauty Is A Joy

I Will Clamber Through The Clouds And Exist.

Who Would Wish To Be Among The Commonplace Crowd Of The Little Famous - Who Are Each Individually Lost In A Throng Made Up Of Themselves?

He Ne'er Is Crowned With Immortality Who Fears To Follow Where Airy Voices Lead.

I Should Write For The Mere Yearning And Fondness I Have For The Beautiful, Even If My Night's Labors Should Be Burnt Every Morning And No Eye Shine Upon Them.

But Were There Ever Any Writhed Not At Passed Joy?