What Shocks The Virtuous Philosopher, Delights The

The Roaring Of The Wind Is My Wife And The Stars Through The Window Pane Are My Children. The Mighty Abstract Idea I Have Of Beauty In All Things Stifles The More Divided And Minute Domestic Happiness.

No, No, I'm Sure, My Restless Spirit Never Could Endure To Brood So Long Upon One Luxury, Unless It Did, Though Fearfully, Espy A Hope Beyond The Shadow Of A Dream.

But Let Me See Thee Stoop From Heaven On Wings That Fill The Sky With Silver Glitterings!

The Poppies Hung Dew-dabbled On Their Stalks.

My Mind Has Been The Most Discontented And Restless One That Ever Was Put Into A Body Too Small For It.