All beauteous things for which we live By laws of space and time decay. But Oh, the very reason why I clasp them, is because they die..

Somewhere there must one Made for this soul, to move it..

Your chilly stars I can forgo, this warm kind world is all I know..

Jolly boating weather, And a hay harvest breeze, Blade on the feather, Shade off the trees..

But you go to a great school, not for knowledge so much as for arts and habits; for the habit of attention, for the art of expression, for the art of….

They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, / They brought me bitter news to hear, and bitter tears to shed..