One Hates An Author That's All Author.

What An Antithetical Mind! - Tenderness, Roughness - Delicacy, Coarseness - Sentiment, Sensuality - Soaring And Groveling, Dirt And Deity - All Mixed Up In That One Compound Of Inspired Clay!

I Was Accused Of Every Monstrous Vice By Public Rumour And Private Rancour; My Name, Which Had Been A Knightly Or Noble One, Was Tainted. I Felt That, If What Was Whispered, And Muttered, And Murmured, Was True, I Was Unfit For England; If False, England Was Unfit For Me.

When We Two Parted In Silence And Tears, Half Broken-hearted, To Sever For Years.

In Itself A Thought, A Slumbering Thought Is Capable Of Years; And Curdles A Long Life Into One Hour.

Age Shakes Athena's Tower, But Spares Gray Marathon.