"One impulse from a vernal wood

Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.

The light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet's dream.

To character and success, two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together... humble dependence on God and manly reliance on self.

The Poet, gentle creature as he is, Hath, like the Lover, his unruly times; His fits when he is neither sick nor well, Though no distress be near him but his own Unmanageable thoughts.

The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.

A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?