Greatness Of Any Kind Has No Greater

It Is Only When I Dally With What I Am About, Look Back And Aside, Instead Of Keeping My Eyes Straight Forward, That I Feel These Cold Sinkings Of The Heart.

Here Eglantine Embalm'd The Air, Hawthorne And Hazel Mingled There; The Primrose Pale, And Violet Flower, Found In Each Cliff A Narrow Bower; Fox-glove And Nightshade, Side By Side, Emblems Of Punishment And Pride, Group'd Their Dark Hues With Every Stain The Weather-beaten Crags Retain.

It Was In The Beginning Of The Month Of November, 17--, When A Young English Gentleman, Who Had Just Left The University Of Oxford, Made Use Of The Liberty Afforded Him, To Visit Some Parts Of The North Of England; And Curiosity Extended His Tour Into The Adjacent Frontier Of The Sister Country.

If A Faultless Poem Could Be Produced, I Am Satisfied It Would Tire The Critics Themselves; And Annoy The Whole Reading World With The Spleen.

I'll Dream No More--by Mainly Mind Not Even In Sleep Is Well Resigned. My Midnight Orisons Said O'er, I'll Turn To Rest And Dream No More.