It is unconceivable that the whole Universe was merely created for us who live in this third-rate planet of a third-rate moon.

A truth looks freshest in the fashions of the day.

Sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, The moans of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.

But while I breathe Heaven's air and Heaven looks down on me, And smiles at my best meanings, I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.

And ah for a man to arise in me, That the man I am may cease to be!

But the churchmen fain would kill their church, As the churches have kill'd their Christ.

Half the night I waste in sighs, Half in dreams I sorrow after The delight of early skies; In a wakeful dose I sorrow For the hand, the lips, the eyes, For the meeting of the morrow, The delight of happy laughter, The delight of low replies.