Of Love, That Fairest Joys Give Most

The Public - A Thing I Cannot Help Looking Upon As An Enemy, And Which I Cannot Address Without Feelings Of Hostility.

Love In A Hut, With Water And A Crust, Is - Love, Forgive Us! - Cinders, Ashes, Dust.

I Am Sailing With Thee Through The Dizzy Sky! How Beautiful Thou Art!

I Think I Shall Be Among The English Poets After My Death.

I Have Nothing To Speak Of But My Self-and What Can I Say But What I Feel.