The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children.

A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.

There is an old saying "well begun is half done"-'tis a bad one. I would use instead-Not begun at all 'til half done.

I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of the Imagination – What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth – whether it existed before or not – for I have the same Idea of all our Passions as of Love they are all in their sublime, creative of essential Beauty . . .

...yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From out dark spirits.

Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.

It is a flaw In happiness to see beyond our bourn, - It forces us in summer skies to mourn, It spoils the singing of the nightingale.