A grief without a pang, void, dark and drear, A drowsy, stifled, unimpassioned grief, Which finds no natural outlet or relief, In word, or sigh, or tear.

He who is best prepared can best serve his moment of inspiration.

We must not be guilty of taking the law into our own hands, and converting it from what it really is to what we think it ought to be.

A spring of love gush'd from my heart, And I bless'd them unaware.

Poetry has been to me its own exceeding great reward; it has given me the habit of wishing to discover the good and beautiful in all that meets and surrounds me.

The moving moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide: Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside.

And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.