Beauty Is Truth, Truth Beauty,-that Is All

The Days Of Peace And Slumberous Calm Are Fled.

Here Lies One Whose Name Was Writ In Water.

I Compare Human Life To A Large Mansion Of Many Apartments, Two Of Which I Can Only Describe, The Doors Of The Rest Being As Yet Shut Upon Me.

I Do Think Better Of Womankind Than To Suppose They Care Whether Mister John Keats Five Feet High Likes Them Or Not.

And Shade The Violets, That They May Bind The Moss In Leafy Nets.