I Think That The Trivialness Of Life

Searching Nature I Taste Self But At One Tankard, That Of My Own Being.

Even With One Companion Ecstasy Is Almost Banished.

It Seems Then That It Is Not The Excellence Of Any Two Things (or More) In Themselves, But Those Two Things As Viewed By The Light Of Each Other, That Makes Beauty.

I Hold With The Old-fashioned Criticism That Browning Is Not Really A Poet, That He Has All The Gifts But The One Needful And The Pearls Without The String; Rather One Should Say Raw Nuggets And Rough Diamonds.

Glory Be To God For Dappled Things.