the shell must break before the bird can fly.

Shape your heart to front the hour, but dream not that the hours will last.

Sweet were the days when I was all unknown, But when my name was lifted up, the storm Brake on the mountain and I cared not for it. Right well know I that fame is half disfame.

And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech.

The last great Englishman is low.

The old order changes yielding place to new.

Of love that never found his earthly close, What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts; Or all the same as if he had not been?