Who Would Wish To Be Among The

Heard Melodies Are Sweet, But Those Unheard Are Sweeter.

No Sooner Had I Stepp'd Into These Pleasures Than I Began To Think Of Rhymes And Measures: The Air That Floated By Me Seem'd To Say 'write! Thou Wilt Never Have A Better Day.

... Who Alive Can Say 'thou Art No Poet - Mayst Not Tell Thy Dreams'? Since Every Man Whose Soul Is Not A Clod Hath Visions, And Would Speak, If He Had Loved, And Been Well Nurtured In His Mother Tongue.

I Think I Shall Be Among The English Poets After My Death.

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