For My Part, If A Lie May

Ten Masts Make Not The Altitude Which Thou Hast Perpendicularly Fell. Thy Life's A Miracle.

Now Let It Work. Mischief, Thou Art Afoot. Take Thou What Course Thou Wilt.

The Summer's Flower Is To The Summer Sweet Though To Itself It Only Live And Die

But Whate'er You Are That In This Desert Inaccessible, Under The Shade Of Melancholy Boughs, Lose And Neglect The Creeping Hours Of Time; If You Have Ever Looked On Better Days, If Ever Been Where Bells Knoll'd To Church, If Ever Sat At Any Good Man's Feast, If Ever From Your Eyelids Wiped A Tear, And Know What 'tis To Pity And Be Pitied, Let Gentleness My Strong Enforcement Be. . . .

Are You Sure/that We Are Awake? It Seems To Me/that Yet We Sleep, We Dream