Closer of lovely eyes to lovely dreams, Lover of loneliness, and wandering, Of upcast eye, and tender pondering! Thee must I praise above all other glories That smile us on to tell delightful stories.

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

Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.

You are always new to me.

I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.

Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.

It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores