Blind and naked ignorance delivers brawling judgments, unashamed, on all things all day long

Theirs is not to make reply: Theirs is not to reason why: Theirs is but to do and die.

That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common! Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break.

All experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move.

The mighty hopes that make us men.

A pasty costly-made, Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay, Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks Imbedded and injellied.

I can't be anonymous by reason of your confounded photographs. (To Julia Margaret Cameron)