Are Not The Mountains, Waves, And Skies

Constancy... That Small Change Of Love, Which People Exact So Rigidly, Receive In Such Counterfeit Coin, And Repay In Baser Metal.

This Sort Of Adoration Of The Real Is But A Heightening Of The Beau Ideal.

A Legal Broom's A Moral Chimney-sweeper, And That's The Reason He Himself's So Dirty

I Can't But Say It Is An Awkward Sight To See One's Native Land Receding Through The Growing Waters; It Unmans One Quite, Especially When Life Is Rather New.

Parting Day Dies Like The Dolphin, Whom Each Pang Imbues With A New Colour As It Gasps Away, The Last Still Loveliest, Till-'t Is Gone, And All Is Gray.