Poetry; A Criticism Of Life Under The

Tis Not To See The World As From A Height, With Rapt Prophetic Eyes, And Heart Profoundly Stirred; And Weep, And Feel The Fullness Of The Past, The Years That Are Not More.

They... Who Await. No Gifts From Chance, Have Conquered Fate.

Have Something To Say, And Say It As Clearly As You Can. That Is The Only Secret.

I Am A Liberal, Yet I Am A Liberal Tempered By Experience, Reflexion, And Renouncement, And I Am, Above All, A Believer In Culture.

For Poetry The Idea Is Everything; The Rest Is A World Of Illusion.