This Grave contains all that was Mortal of a Young English Poet Who on his Death Bed in the Bitterness of his Heart at the Malicious Power of his Enemies Desired these words to be engraved on his Tomb Stone "Here lies One Whose Name was writ in Water."

The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.

The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness.

There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.

Already with thee! tender is the night. . . But here there is no light. . .

His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead, Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were closed.