The Art Of Poetry Is To Touch

The Bird That Flutters Least Is Longest On The Wing.

There Is In Souls A Sympathy With Sounds.

Made Poetry A Mere Mechanic Art.

But Still Remember, If You Mean To Please, To Press Your Point With Modesty And Ease.

Ceremony Leads Her Bigots Forth, Prepared To Fight For Shadows Of No Worth. While Truths, On Which Eternal Things Depend, Can Hardly Find A Single Friend.