Ever let the Fancy roam Pleasure never is at home.
Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness painsMy sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,Or emptied some dull opiate to the drainsOne minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:‘Tis not through envy of thy ha...
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art--Not in lone splendour hung aloft the nightAnd watching, with eternal lids apart,Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite.
If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree it had better not come at all.
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet br...
The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeable evaporate.
Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings Conquer all mysteries by rule and line Empty the haunted air the gnomed mine -Unweave a rainbow.
Oh for a life of sensations rather than of thoughts.
The imagination of a boy is healthy and the mature imagination of a man is healthy but there is a space of life between in which the soul is in ferment the character undecided the way of life unc...
You speak of Lord Byron and me there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.
Yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits.
Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,Sylvan historian, who canst thus expressA flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:What leaf-fring’d legend haunts a...
Robin Hood. To a Friend.No! those days are gone away,And their hours are old and gray,And their minutes buried allUnder the down-trodden pallOfthe leaves of many years:Many times have winter's shears,...