Know Ye Not Who Would Be Free

For A Man To Become A Poet (witness Petrarch And Dante), He Must Be In Love, Or Miserable.

What Is The Worst Of Woes That Wait On Age? What Stamps The Wrinkle Deeper On The Brow? To View Each Loved One Blotted From Life's Page, And Be Alone On Earth, As I Am Now.

Constancy... That Small Change Of Love, Which People Exact So Rigidly, Receive In Such Counterfeit Coin, And Repay In Baser Metal.

It Is Odd But Agitation Or Contest Of Any Kind Gives A Rebound To My Spirits And Sets Me Up For A Time.

Ah, Nut-brown Partridges! Ah, Brilliant Pheasants! And Ah, Ye Poachers!--'tis No Sport For Peasants.