For Words Of Rapture Groping,

To Recommend A Monarchy On Account Of The Prosperity It Gives The Provinces Seems To Me Like Recommending That A Man Should Have Liberty To Treat His Children As Slaves, If At The Same Time He Treats His Slaves With Reasonable Consideration.

Where Nature With Accustomed Round Sweeps And Garnishes The Ground With Kindly Beauty, Warm Or Cold Alternate Seasons Never Old: Heathen, How Furiously You Rage, Cursing This Blood And Brimstone Age, How Furiously Against Your Will You Kill And Kill Again, And Kill: All Thought Of Peace Behind You Cast, Till Like Small Boys With Fear Aghast, Each Cries For God To Understand, 'i Could Not Help It, It Was My Hand.

Hate Is A Fear, And Fear Is Rot That Cankers Root And Fruit Alike, Fight Cleanly Then, Hate Not, Fear Not, Strike With No Madness When You Strike.

When A Dream Is Born In You With A Sudden Clamorous Pain, When You Know The Dream Is True And Lovely, With No Flaw Nor Stain, O Then, Be Careful, Or With Sudden Clutch You'll Hurt The Delicate Thing You Prize So Much.

Nine-tenths Of English Poetic Literature Is The Result Either Of Vulgar Careerism Or Of A Poet Trying To Keep His Hand In. Most Poets Are Dead By Their Late Twenties.