The Sun's Rim Dips; The Stars Rush

The One Red Leaf, The Last Of Its Clan, That Dances As Often As Dance It Can, Hanging So Light, And Hanging So High, On The Topmost Twig That Looks Up At The Sky.

The Author Of Biographia Literaria Was Already A Ruined Man. Sometimes, However, To Be A "ruined Man" Is Itself A Vocation.

Hence, Viper Thoughts, That Coil Around My Mind,reality's Dark Dream!i Turn From You, And Listen To The Wind,which Long Has Raved Unnoticed.

The Intelligible Forms Of Ancient Poets, The Fair Humanities Of Old Religion, The Power, The Beauty, And The Majesty That Had Their Haunts In Dale Or Piny Mountain, Or Forest By Slow Stream, Or Pebbly Spring, Or Chasms And Watery Depths, All These Have Vanished; They Live No Longer In The Faith Of Reason.

Imagination That Compares And Contrasts With What Is Around As Well As What Is Better And Worse Is The Living Power And Prime Agent Of All Human Perception Judgement And Emotional Reaction.