The visible world is no longer a reality and the unseen world no longer a dream.

Designs in connection with postage stamps and coinage may be described, I think, as the silent ambassadors on national taste.

Hammer your thoughts into unity.

But Love has pitched his mansion in the place of excrement. For nothing can be sole or whole that has not been rent.

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.

The fascination of what's difficult Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent Spontaneous joy and natural content Out of my heart.

THAT crazed girl improvising her music. Her poetry, dancing upon the shore, Her soul in division from itself Climbing, falling She knew not where, Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship, Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing Heroically lost, heroically found. No matter what disaster occurred She stood in desperate music wound, Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph Where the bales and the baskets lay No common intelligible sound But sang, 'O sea-starved, hungry sea