All my clear-eyed fish, Golden, or rainbow-sided, or purplish, Vermilion-tail'd, or finn'd with silvery gauze... My charming rod, my potent river spells.
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.
Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
The poetry of the earth is never dead.
To silence gossip, don't repeat it.
Already with thee! tender is the night. . . But here there is no light. . .