Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.

But there are times when patience proves at fault.

Therefore I summon age / To grant youth's heritage.

Time'swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.

Art remains the one way possible of speaking truth.

Progress is The law of life: man is not Man as yet.

Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.

All poetry is putting the infinite within the finite.

Make no more giants, God!But elevate the race at once!

Let friend trust friends, and love demand love's like.

That great brow And the spirit-small hand propping it.

Ambition is not what man does... but what man would do.

The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead.

Days decrease, / And autumn grows, autumn in everything.

I count life just a stuff To try the soul's strength on.

My care is for myself; Myself am whole and sole reality.

Escape me? Never, beloved! While I am I, and you are you.

The best way to excape his ire Is, not to seem too happy.

All poetry is difficult to read - The sense of it anyhow.

Truth that peeps Over the glass's edge when dinner's done.

how sad and bad and mad it was - but then, how it was sweet

Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart.

Never the time and the place And the loved one all together.

Never the time and the place and the loved one all together!

On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.

Open my heart, and you will see Graved inside of it ‘Italy.'

There is no truer truth obtainable by Man than comes of music

I judge people by what they might be, - not are, nor will be.

Can we love but on condition that the thing we love must die?

In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe.

Must in death your daylight finish? My sun sets to rise again.

No thought which ever stirred A human breast should be untold.

The curious crime, the fine Felicity and flower of wickedness.

From the sprinkled isles, Lily on lily, that o'erlace the sea.

Poetry, like love, is something we never truly say goodbye to.

Tis not what man Does which exalts him, but what man Would do!

What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?

Fair or foul the lot apportioned life on earth, we bear alike.

Needs there groan a world in anguish just to teach us sympathy?

Day! Faster and more fast. O'er night's brim, day boils at last.

Twere too absurd to slight For the hereafter the todays delight!

There's a new tribunal now higher than God's -The educated man's!

Youth means love, Vows can't change nature, priests are only men.

Aspire, break bounds. Endeavor to be good, and better still, best.

At last awake from life, that insane dream we take for waking now.

God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations.

No, when the fight begins within himself, A man's worth something.

In the morning of the world, When earth was nigher heaven than now.

Pleasure must succeed to pleasure, else past pleasure turns to pain

Lose who may-I still can say, Those who win heaven, blest are they!

Share This Page