Take This Sorrow To Thy Heart And

Is This Is A Dream? O, If It Be A Dream, Let Me Sleep On, And Do Not Wake Me Yet!

Do Not Delay, Do Not Delay: The Golden Moments Fly!

Many A Poem Is Marred By A Superfluous Verse.

Art Is The Child Of Nature.

I Do Not Love Thee Less For What Is Done, And Cannot Be Undone. Thy Very Weakness Hath Brought Thee Nearer To Me, And Henceforth My Love Will Have A Sense Of Pity In It, Making It Less A Worship Than Before.