When we first met and loved, I did not build Upon the event with marble. . . .

Men get opinions as boys learn to spell by reiteration chiefly.

What is art but the life upon the larger scale, the higher. When, graduating up in a spiral line of still expanding and ascending gyres, it pushes toward the intense significance of all things, hungry for the infinite?

The little cares that fretted me, I lost them yesterday Among the fields above the sea, Among the winds at play.

All actual heroes are essential men, And all men possible heroes.

The soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,And placed it by thee on a golden throne,-- And that I love (O soul, we must be meek!)Is by thee only, whom I love alone.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use