“I remainMistress of mine own self and mine own soul”

“So word by word, and line by line,The dead man touch'd me from the past,And all at once it seem'd at lastThe living soul was flash'd on mine,And mine in his was wound, and whirl'dAbout empyreal heights of thought,And came on that which is, and caughtThe deep pulsations of the world,Æonian music measuring outThe steps of Time—the shocks of Chance--The blows of Death. At length my tranceWas cancell'd, stricken thro' with doubt.”

“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.”

“Seal'd her minefrom her first sweet breathMine, and mine by right, from birth till deathMine, mine-our fathers have sworn.”

“O, were I loved as I desire to be!What is there in the great sphere of the earth,Or range of evil between death and birth,That I should fear, - if I were loved by thee!All the inner, all the outer world of pain,Clear love would pierce and cleave, if thou wert mine;As I have heard that somewhere in the mainFresh-water springs come up through bitter brine.‘I were joy, not fear, clasped hand in hand with thee,To wait for death - mute - careless of all ills,Apart upon a mountain, though the surgeOf some new deluge from a thousand hillsFlung leagues of roaring foam into the gorgeBelow us, as far on as eye could see.”

“I sometimes find it half a sin,To put to words the grief i feel,For words like nature,half reveal,and half conceal the soul within,”

“The year is dying in the night.”