Euclid Alone Has Looked on Beauty Bare.
When you are corn and roses and at rest I shall endure, a dense and sanguine ghost To haunt the scene where I was happiest To bend above the thing I loved the most
Beauty in all things-no, we cannot hope for that; but some place set apart for it.
Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies.
But she was not made for any man, and she will never be all mine.
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink.