The bells they sound on Bredon, And still the steeples hum. "Come all to church, good people"- Oh, noisy bells, be dumb; I hear you, I will come.

Poetry is not the thing said, but the way of saying it.

A moment's thought would have shown him. But a moment is a long time, and thought is a painful process.

And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears.

Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink for fellows whom it hurts to think.

I sought them far and found them, The sure, the straight, the brave, The hearts I lost my own to, The souls I could not save They braced their belts about them, They crossed in ships the sea, They sought and found six feet of ground, And there they died for me.

Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out. Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure.