O, Sorrow! Why Dost Borrow Heart's Lightness

Tall Oaks Branch Charmed By The Earnest Stars Dream And So Dream All Night Without A Stir.

Even Bees, The Little Almsmen Of Spring Bowers, Know There Is Richest Juice In Poison-flowers.

Thou, Silent Form, Dost Tease Us Out Of Thought As Doth Eternity.

Whatever The Imagination Seizes As Beauty Must Be Truth -whether It Existed Before Or Not

My Friends Should Drink A Dozen Of Claret On My Tomb.