I see behind each mask that wonder a kindred soul.

I sing the body electric.

Oh, to be alive in such an age, when miracles are everywhere, and every inch of common air throbs a tremendous prophecy, of greater marvels yet to be.

The proof of a poet is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it.

You must not know too much or be too precise or scientific about birds and trees and flowers and watercraft; a certain free-margin , or even vagueness - ignorance, credulity - helps your enjoyment of these things.

Happiness, not in another place but this place...not for another hour, but this hour.

Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost.