With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.

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."

Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain Clings cruelly to us.

Or thou might'st better listen to the wind, Whose language is to thee a barren noise, Though it blows legend-laden through the trees.

The poetry of the earth is never dead.

Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?

A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.