The Charm, One Might Say The Genius,

Foolishness And Criticism Are So Apt, Do So Naturally Go Together!

We Can't Separate Our Humanity From Our Poetry.

That Headlong Ivy! Not A Leaf Will Grow But Thinking Of A Wreath, . . . I Like Such Ivy; Bold To Leap A Height 'twas Strong To Climb! As Good To Grow On Graves As Twist About A Thyrsus; Pretty Too (and That's Not Ill) When Twisted Round A Comb.

His Ears Were Often The First Thing To Catch My Tears.

The World's Male Chivalry Has Perished Out, But Women Are Knights-errant To The Last; And, If Cervantes Had Been Greater Still, He Had Made His Don A Donna.