O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!

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 feel of not to feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steel it.

I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.

I never was in love - yet the voice and the shape of a woman has haunted me these two days.

The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.

Should Disappointment, parent of Despair, Strive for her son to seize my careless heart; When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air, Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart: Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright, And fright him as the morning frightens night!