Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?

It is the glory and good of Art, That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truth, to mouths like mine at least.

Pippa's Song The year's at the spring The day's at the morn Morning's at seven, The Hill side's dew-pearled The lark's on the wing The snail's on the thorn God's in his heaven- All's right with the world

Poetry, like love, is something we never truly say goodbye to.

I trust in Nature for the stable laws Of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant And Autumn garner to the end of time. I trust in God,-the right shall be the right And other than the wrong, while he endures. I trust in my own soul, that can perceive The outward and the inward,-Nature's good And God's.

My care is for myself; Myself am whole and sole reality.

Men are not angels, neither are they brutes.