A critic must accept what is best in a poet, and thus become his best encourager.

Poetry is an art, and chief of the fine art; the easiest to dabble in, the hardest in which to reach true excellence.

Whither away, Bluebird, Whither away? The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky Thou still canst find the color of thy wing, The hue of May. Warbler, why speed, thy southern flight? ah, why, Thou, too, whose song first told us of the Spring? Whither away?

Faith and joy are the ascensive forces of song.

Men are egotists, and not all tolerant of one man's selfhood; they do not always deem the amities elective.

Natural emotion is the soul of poetry, as melody is of music; the same faults are engendered by over-study of either art; there is a lack of sincerity, of irresistible impulse in both the poet and the, composer.

Science has but one fashion-to lose nothing once gained.