“Who shall tell the lady's grief When her Cat was past relief? Who shall number the hot tears Shed o'er her, beloved for years? Who shall say the dark dismay Which her dying caused that day?”

“Fair as the moon and joyful as the light; Tot wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim; Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright; Not as she is, but as she fills his dreams.”

“Love shall be our token; love be yours and love be mine.”

“When I Am Dead, My Dearest When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress-tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops...”

“Remember Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more, day...”

“Poetry ... ... a place for the genuine, Hands that can grasp, eyes that can dilate, hair that can rise”

“I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all?”

“one must not borrow a long white beard and tie it on and threaten with the scythe of time the casually curious”

“... imaginary gardens with real toads in them ... ... if you demand on one hand, the raw material of poetry in all its rawness and that which is on the other hand genuine, then you are inter...”