Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was love.

Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

For always roaming with a hungry heart.

I am going a long way With these thou seëst-if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)- To the island-valley of Avilion, Where falls not hail or rain or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.

If I make dark my countenance, I shut my life from happier chance.

What is it all but a trouble of ants in the gleam of a million million of suns?

God made thee good as thou art beautiful.