Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.

A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light

Far from the world I walk, and from all care.

We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.

Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!

What is a Poet? He is a man speaking to men: a man, it is true, endued with more lively sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness, who has a greater knowledge of human nature, and a more comprehensive soul, than are supposed to be common among mankind; a man pleased with his own passions and volitions, and who rejoices more than other men in the spirit of life that is in him; delighting to contemplate similar volitions and passions as manifested in the goings-on of the universe, and habitually impelled to create them where he does not find them.

The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.