The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.
You don't have to be a house to be haunted.
Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.
The appetite for silence is seldom an acquired taste.
Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a heart in port – Done with the compass – Done with the chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the sea! Might I moor – Tonight – In thee!
These are the days when birds come back, a very few, a Bird or two, to take a backward look.