Neither Poetry, Nor Ambition, Nor Love Have

There Is An Old Saying "well Begun Is Half Done"-'tis A Bad One. I Would Use Instead-not Begun At All 'til Half Done.

Life Is But A Day; A Fragile Dewdrop On Its Perilous Way From A Tree's Summit.

Adieu! Adieu! Thy Plaintive Anthem Fades Past The Near Meadows, Over The Still Stream, Up The Hill-side; And Now 'tis Buried Deep In The Next Valley-glades: Was It A Vision, Or A Waking Dream? Fled Is That Music:--do I Wake Or Sleep?

Can Death Be Sleep, When Life Is But A Dream, And Scenes Of Bliss Pass As A Phantom By? ---"on Death

I Do Think Better Of Womankind Than To Suppose They Care Whether Mister John Keats Five Feet High Likes Them Or Not.