Three minutes thought would suffice to find this out; but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time.

Poems very seldom consist of poetry and nothing else; and pleasure can be derived also from their other ingredients. I am convinced that most readers, when they think they are admiring poetry, are deceived by inability to analyse their sensations, and that they are really admiring, not the poetry of the passage before them, but something else in it, which they like better than poetry.

I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.

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

With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.

Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrist? And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists? And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air? Oh they're taking him to prison for the colour of his hair.

To justify God's ways to man.