Joy, Whose Hand Is Ever At His

I Want A Brighter Word Than Bright

We Hate Poetry That Has A Palpable Design Upon Us - And If We Do Not Agree, Seems To Put Its Hand In Its Breeches Pocket. Poetry Should Be Great & Unobtrusive, A Thing Which Enters Into One's Soul, And Does Not Startle It Or Amaze It With Itself But With Its Subject. - How Beautiful Are The Retired Flowers! How Would They Lose Their Beauty Were They To Throng Into The Highway Crying Out, "admire Me I Am A Violet! Dote Upon Me I Am A Primrose!"

Asleep In Lap Of Legends Old.

The Air Is All Softness.

Was It A Vision Or A Waking Dream? Fled Is That Music--do I Wake Or Sleep?