With A Great Poet The Sense Of

I Scarcely Remember Counting Upon Happiness—i Look Not For It If It Be Not In The Present Hour—nothing Startles Me Beyond The Moment. The Setting Sun Will Always Set Me To Rights, Or If A Sparrow Come Before My Window I Take Part In Its Existence And Pick About The Gravel.

His Religion At Best Is An Anxious Wish,-like That Of Rabelais, A Great Perhaps.

Death Is Life's High Meed.

When Old Age Shall This Generation Waste, Thou Shalt Remain, In Midst Of Other Woe Than Ours, A Friend To Man, To Whom Thou Say'st, "beauty Is Truth, Truth Beauty," - That Is All Ye Know On Earth, And All Ye Need To Know.

O For The Gentleness Of Old Romance, The Simple Planning Of A Minstrel's Song!