“Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.”

“There is sweet music here that softer fallsThan petals from blown roses on the grass,Or night-dews on still waters between wallsOf shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes;Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.Here are cool mosses deep,And thro' the moss the ivies creep,And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.”

“She sleeps: her breathings are not heardIn palace chambers far apart.The fragrant tresses are not stirr'dThat lie upon her charmed heartShe sleeps: on either hand upswellsThe gold-fringed pillow lightly prest:She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwellsA perfect form in perfect rest.”

“The city is builtTo music, therefore never built at all,And therefore built forever.”

“And this gray spirit yearning in desireTo follow knowledge like a sinking star,Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. ”

“The mirror crack'd from side to side"The curse has come upon me," criedThe Lady of Shalott”

“Tell thou the King and all his liars, that IHave founded my Round Table in the North,And whatsoever his own knights have swornMy knights have sworn the counter to it -- and sayMy tower is full of harlots, like his court,But mine are worthier, seeing thy professTo be none other than themselves -- and sayMy knights are all adulterers like his own,But mine are truer, seeing they professTo be none other; and say his hour is come,The heathen are upon him, his long lanceBroken, and his Excalibur a straw.”