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.

The sweetest flowers in all the world- A baby's hands.

When fate has allowed to any man more than one great gift, accident or necessity seems usually to contrive that one shall encumber and impede the other.

The tadpole poet will never grow into anything bigger than a frog; not though in that stage of development he should puff and blow himself till he bursts with windy adulation at the heels of the laureled ox.

I remember the way we parted, The day and the way we met; You hoped we were both broken-hearted And knew we should both forget.

Is not Precedent indeed a King of men? A Word from the Psalmist.

Forget that I remember And dream that I forget.