Then felt I like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken.
I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.
O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
... the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown - the Air is our robe of state - the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.
Thou art a dreaming thing, A fever of thyself.
And when thou art weary I'll find thee a bed, Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head.