If Poetry Does Not Come As Naturally

O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell, Let It Not Be Among The Jumbled Heap Of Murky Buildings: Climb With Me The Steep,-- Nature's Observatory--whence The Dell, In Flowery Slopes, Its River's Crystal Swell, May Seem A Span; Let Me Thy Vigils Keep 'mongst Boughs Pavilion'd, Where The Deer's Swift Leap Startles The Wild Bee From The Foxglove Bell.

Is There Another Life? Shall I Awake And Find All This A Dream? There Must Be We Cannot Be Created For This Sort Of Suffering.

Health Is The Greatest Of Blessings - With Health And Hope We Should Be Content To Live.

When I Have Fears That I May Ceace To Be, Before My Pen Has Gleaned My Teaming Brain".

Do You Not See How Necessary A World Of Pains And Troubles Is To School An Intelligence And Make It A Soul?