I Am Sailing With Thee

The Poppies Hung Dew-dabbled On Their Stalks.

A Long Poem Is A Test Of Invention Which I Take To Be The Polar Star Of Poetry, As Fancy Is The Sails, And Imagination The Rudder.

It Is A Flaw In Happiness To See Beyond Our Bourn, - It Forces Us In Summer Skies To Mourn, It Spoils The Singing Of The Nightingale.

Alas! When Passion Is Both Meek And Wild!

The Genius Of Shakespeare Was An Innate University.