We murder to dissect.

Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?

A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!

That best portion of a man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.

Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.

How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.

And mighty poets in their misery dead.