How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart.

No man has ever lived that had enough of children's gratitude or woman's love.

We have fallen in the dreams the ever-living Breathe on the tarnished mirror of the world, And then smooth out with ivory hands and sigh.

A line will take us hours maybe; / Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, / Our stitching and unstitching has been naught... Better go down upon your marrow-bones / And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones... For to articulate sweet sounds together / Is to work harder than all these, and yet / Be thought an idler by the noisy set.

And many a poor man that has roved Loved and thought himself beloved From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

Some burn damp faggots, others may consume The entire combustible world in one small room.

If there's no hatred in a mind Assault and battery of the wind Can never tear the linnet from the leaf