No Verse Which Is Unmusical

My Virgin Sense Of Sound Was Steeped In The Music Of Young Streams; And Roses Through The Casement Peeped, And Scented All My Dreams.

In Vain Would Science Scan And Trace Firmly Her Aspect. All The While, There Gleams Upon Her Far-off Face A Vague Unfathomable Smile.

Imagination In Poetry, As Distinguished From Mere Fancy Is The Transfiguring Of The Real Or Actual To The Ideal.

Public Opinion Is No More Than This: What People Think That Other People Think.

Is Life Worth Living? Yes, So Long As Spring Revives The Year, And Hails Us With The Cuckoo's Song, To Show That She Is Here.