Poetry Should Surprise By A Fine Excess

A Man Should Have The Fine Point Of His Soul Taken Off To Become Fit For This World.

A Little Noiseless Noise Among The Leaves, Born Of The Very Sigh That Silence Heaves.

Bards Of Passion And Of Mirth, Ye Have Left Your Souls On Earth! Have Ye Souls In Heaven Too, Double-lived In Regions New?

I Cannot Exist Without You - I Am Forgetful Of Every Thing But Seeing You Again - My Life Seems To Stop There - I See No Further. You Have Absorb'd Me. I Have A Sensation At The Present Moment As Though I Was Dissolving.

Thou Foster-child Of Silence And Slow Time.