Poetry Is Not The Thing Said, But

We Now To Peace And Darkness And Earth And Thee Restore Thy Creature That Thou Madest And Wilt Cast Forth No More.

White In The Moon The Long Road Lies.

The Mortal Sickness Of A Mind Too Unhappy To Be Kind.

Poems Very Seldom Consist Of Poetry And Nothing Else; And Pleasure Can Be Derived Also From Their Other Ingredients. I Am Convinced That Most Readers, When They Think They Are Admiring Poetry, Are Deceived By Inability To Analyse Their Sensations, And That They Are Really Admiring, Not The Poetry Of The Passage Before Them, But Something Else In It, Which They Like Better Than Poetry.

Could Man Be Drunk For Ever With Liquor, Love, Or Fights, Lief Should I Rouse At Morning And Lief Lie Down Of Nights. But Men At Whiles Are Sober And Think By Fits And Starts, And If They Think, They Fasten Their Hands Upon Their Hearts.