Earth And High Heaven Are Fixed Of

All Knots That Lovers Tie Are Tied To Sever. Here Shall Your Sweetheart Lie, Untrue For Ever.

I Think That To Transfuse Emotion - Not To Transmit Thought But To Set Up In The Reader's Sense A Vibration Corresponding To What Was Felt By The Writer - Is The Peculiar Function Of Poetry.

He Would Not Stay For Me, And Who Can Wonder? He Would Not Stay For Me To Stand And Gaze. I Shook His Hand, And Tore My Heart In Sunder, And Went With Half My Life About My Ways.

They Say My Verse Is Sad: No Wonder; Its Narrow Measure Spans Tears Of Eternity, And Sorrow, Not Mine. But Man's.

There, By The Starlit Fences The Wanderer Halts And Hears My Soul That Lingers Sighing About The Glimmering Weirs.