The Grandeur Of The Dooms We Have

The Redbreast Whistles From A Garden-croft; And Gathering Swallows Twitter In The Skies.

O For A Life Of Sensations Rather Than Of Thoughts!

The Genius Of Shakespeare Was An Innate University.

No Stir Of Air Was There, Not So Much Life As On A Summer's Day Robs Not One Light Seed From The Feather'd Grass, But Where The Dead Leaf Fell, There Did It Rest.

I Have Met With Women Whom I Really Think Would Like To Be Married To A Poem And To Be Given Away By A Novel.