Dancing is the poetry of the foot.

For age but tastes of pleasures youth devours.

If you have lived, take thankfully the past. Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.

Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?

For they can conquer who believe they can.

Welcome, thou kind deceiver! Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key, Dost open life, and, unperceived by us, Even steal us from ourselves.

Imagination in a poet is a faculty so wild and lawless that, like a high ranging spaniel, it must have clogs tied to it, lest it outrun the judgment. The great easiness of blank verse renders the poet too luxuriant. He is tempted to say many things which might better be omitted, or, at least shut up in fewer words.