The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink I heard a voice it said Drink, pretty creature, drink'

Take the sweet poetry of life away, and what remains behind?

Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.

One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.

The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society.

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will; Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!

We murder to dissect.