Earth And High Heaven Are Fixed Of

Oh When I Was In Love With You, Then I Was Clean And Brave, And Miles Around The Wonder Grew How Well Did I Behave. And Now The Fancy Passes By, And Nothing Will Remain, And Miles Around They'll Say That I Am Quite Myself Again.

The Laws Of God, The Laws Of Man, He May Keep That Will And Can; Not I: Let God And Man Decree Laws For Themselves And Not For Me.

On Wenlock Edge The Wood's In Trouble;his Forest Fleece The Wrekin Heaves;the Wind It Plies The Saplings Double, And Thick On Severn Snow The Leaves.

The Mortal Sickness Of A Mind Too Unhappy To Be Kind.

Poetry Is Not The Thing Said, But The Way Of Saying It.