Many ingenious lovely things are gone / That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude.

My wretched dragon is perplexed.

Many times man lives and dies between his two eternities: that of race and that of Soul... A brief parting from those dear is the worst man has to fear... Though grave diggers' toil is long... They but thrust their buried men back in the human mind again.

Ecstasy is from the contemplation of things vaster than the individual and imperfectly seen perhaps, by all those that still live.

Words are always getting conventionalized to some secondary meaning. It is one of the works of poetry to take the truants in custody and bring them back to their right senses.

Cast a cold eye on life, on death Horseman pass by

I went out to the hazelwood because a fire was in my head.