Tomorrow, more's the pity, Away we both must hie, To air the ditty and to earth I.

I think that to transfuse emotion - not to transmit thought but to set up in the reader's sense a vibration corresponding to what was felt by the writer - is the peculiar function of poetry.

Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies, But keep your fancy free.

I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.

Great literature should do some good to the reader: must quicken his perception though dull, and sharpen his discrimination though blunt, and mellow the rawness of his personal opinions.

All knots that lovers tie Are tied to sever. Here shall your sweetheart lie, Untrue for ever.

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