“The children born of thee are sword and fire,Red ruin, and the breaking up of laws,”

“No sword Of wrath her right arm whirl'd,But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word She shook the world.”

“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.”

“When in the down I sink my head,Sleep, Death's twin-brother, times my breath;Sleep, Death's twin-brother, knows not Death,Nor can I dream of thee as dead:”

“The year is dying in the night.”

“Sometimes the heart sees what's invisible to the eye.”

“We needs must love the highest when we see it.”