“Stands the Church clock at ten to three?And is there honey still for tea?”

“Ah God! to see the branches stir Across the moon at Grantchester! To smell the thrilling-sweet and rotten Unforgettable, unforgotten River-smell, and hear the breeze Sobbing in the little trees. Say, do the elm-clumps greatly stand Still guardians of that holy land? The chestnuts shade, in reverend dream, The yet unacademic streamIs dawn a secret shy and cold Anadyomene, silver-gold? And sunset still a golden sea From Haslingfield to Madingley? And after, ere the night is born,Do hares come out about the corn? Oh, is the water sweet and cool, Gentle and brown, above the pool? And laughs the immortal river still Under the mill, under the mill?Say, is there Beauty yet to find? And Certainty? and Quiet kind? Deep meadows yet, for to forget The lies, and truths, and pain?… oh! yet Stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?”

“I said I splendidly loved you; it’s not true.Such long swift tides stir not a land-locked sea.On gods or fools the high risk falls–on you–The clean clear bitter-sweet that’s not for me.Love soars from earth to ecstasies unwist.Love is flung Lucifer-like from Heaven to Hell.But–there are wanderers in the middle mist,Who cry for shadows, clutch, and cannot tellWhether they love at all, or, loving, whom:An old song’s lady, a fool in fancy dress,Or phantoms, or their own face on the gloom;For love of Love, or from heart’s loneliness.Pleasure’s not theirs, nor pain. They doubt, and sigh,And do not love at all. Of these am I”

“...in that rich earth a richer dust concealed.(I'm flogging a dead horse w/ this one but this is the 1st time I've even seen this quotes feature! I just wanted to post something.)”

“FailureBecause God put His adamantine fateBetween my sullen heart and its desire,I swore that I would burst the Iron Gate,Rise up, and curse Him on His throne of fire.Earth shuddered at my crown of blasphemy,But Love was as a flame about my feet;Proud up the Golden Stair I strode; and beatThrice on the Gate, and entered with a cry --All the great courts were quiet in the sun,And full of vacant echoes: moss had grownOver the glassy pavement, and begunTo creep within the dusty council-halls.An idle wind blew round an empty throneAnd stirred the heavy curtains on the walls.”

“If I should die, think only this of me:That there's some corner of a foreign fieldThat is for ever England.”

“Love is a flame; - we have beaconed the world's night.A city: - and we have built it, these and I.An emperor: - we have taught the world to die.”