Are there not thousands in the world who love their fellows even to the death, who feel the giant agony of the world, and more, like slaves to poor humanity, labor for mortal good?
Load every rift with ore.
Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
Many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death.
...I leaped headlong into the Sea, and thereby have become more acquainted with the Soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice.