Praise Or Blame Has But A Momentary

He, Who Is Gone, Was One Of The Very Kindest Friends I Possessed, And Yet He Was Not Kinder Perhaps To Me, Than To Others. His Intense Mind And Powerful Feelings Would, I Truly Believe, Have Done The World Some Service, Had His Life Been Spared But He Was Of Too Sensitive A Nature And Thus He Was Destroyed!

I Think I Shall Be Among The English Poets After My Death.

I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.

I Would Sooner Fail Than Not Be Among The Greatest.

So, When Dark Thoughts My Boding Spirit Shroud, Sweet Hope! Celestial Influence Round Me Shed Waving Thy Silver Pinions O'er My Head.