She knows not loves that kissed her She knows not where. Art thou the ghost, my sister, White sister there, Am I the ghost, who knows? My hand, a fallen rose, Lies snow-white on white snows, and takes no care.

Love, till dawn sunder night from day with fire Dividing my delight and my desire.

Ask nothing more of me sweet; All I can give you I give; Heart of my heart were it more, More would be laid at your feet.

Fear that makes faith may break faith.

There is no such thing as a dumb poet or a handless painter. The essence of an artist is that he should be articulate.

While three men hold together, the kingdoms are less by three.

Then star nor sun shall waken, Nor any change of light: Nor sound of waters shaken, Nor any sound or sight: Nor wintry leaves nor vernal; Nor days nor things diurnal; Only the sleep eternal In an eternal night.