What’s the earth With all its art, verse, music, worth – Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?
The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o’er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.
Women hate a debt as men a gift.
Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?
Talent should minister to genius.
Strike when thou wilt, the hour of rest, but let my last days be my best.
Things are where things are, and, as fate has willed, So shall they be fulfilled.
Be sure they sleep not whom God needs.
Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
One wise man’s verdict outweighs all the fools’.
Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.
The moment eternal – just that and no more – When ecstasy’s utmost we clutch at the core While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!
Silence ’tis awe decrees.
The devil, that old stager, who leads downward, perhaps, but fiddles all the way!
Generations pass while some tree stands, and old families last not three oaks.
There are those who believe something, and therefore will tolerate nothing; and on the other hand, those who tolerate everything, because they believe nothing.
All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.
Love, hope, fear, faith – these make humanity; These are its sign and note and character.
All poetry is putting the infinite within the finite.
Night conceals a world but reveals a universe.