The truest and greatest Poetry, (while subtly and necessarily always rhythmic, and distinguishable easily enough) can never again, in the English language, be express'd in arbitrary and rhyming metre, any more than the greatest eloquence, or the truest power and passion.

I will sleep no more but arise, You oceans that have been calm within me! how I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.

And your very flesh shall be a great poem.

For all these new and evolutionary facts, meanings, purposes, new poetic messages, new forms and expressions, are inevitable.

All the things of the universe are perfect miracles, each as profound as any.

Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.

O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done, / The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won