He Must Be Theory-mad Beyond Redemption Who

The Generous Critic Fann'd The Poet's Fire, And Taught The World With Reason To Admire.

We Loved With A Love That Was More Than Love.

In Our Endeavors To Recall To Memory Something Long Forgotten, We Often Find Ourselves Upon The Very Verge Of Remembrance, Without Being Able, In The End, To Remember.

And The Silken Sad Uncertain Rustling Of Each Purple Curtain Thrilled Me — Filled Me With Fantastic Terrors Never Felt Before; So That Now, To Still The Beating Of My Heart, I Stood Repeating, Tis Some Visitor Entreating Entrance At My Chamber Door — Some Late Visitor Entreating Entrance At My Chamber Door; — This It Is, And Nothing More.

All That We See Or Seem Is But A Dream Within A Dream.