I think it better that in times like these a poet's mouth be silent, for in truth we have no gift to set a statesman right.
It's certain there is no fine thing Since Adam's fall but needs much laboring.
Before me floats an image, man or shade, / Shade more than man, more image than a shade.
It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.
What's memory but the ash That chokes our fires that have begun to sink?