Waiting For The Spark From Heaven To

For Eager Teachers Seized My Youth, Pruned My Faith And Trimmed My Fire. Showed Me The High, White Star Of Truth, There Bade Me Gaze And There Aspire.

Sad Patience, Too Near Neighbour To Despair.

Genius Is Mainly An Affair Of Energy, And Poetry Is Mainly An Affair Of Genius; Therefore A Nation Whose Spirit Is Characterized By Energy May Well Be Imminent In Poetry - And We Have Shakespeare.

Coldly, Sadly Descends The Autumn Evening. The Field Strewn With Its Dank Yellow Drifts Of Wither'd Leaves, And The Elms, Fade Into Dimness Apace, Silent; Hardly A Shout From A Few Boys Late At Their Play!

All This I Bear, For, What I Seek, I Know: Peace, Peace Is What I Seek, And Public Calm: Endless Extinction Of Unhappy Hates.