Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a muse' d rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!

I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.

A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.

On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence.

My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it.

Let us not go hurrying about and collecting honey, bee-like buzzing here and there for a knowledge of what is not to be arrived at, but let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive, budding patiently under the eye of Apollo, and taking hints from every noble insect that favours us with a visit - sap will be given us for meat and dew for drink.

What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.