Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge - it is as immortal as the heart of man.

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

Two voices are there; one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.

But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.

Serene will be our days, and bright and happy will our nature be, when love is an unerring light, and joy its own security.

Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.

What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.