Everything that's lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds.
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.
We are fastened to a dying animal.
Homer is my example and his unchristened heart.
The visible world is no longer a reality and the unseen world no longer a dream.