We hear the wail of the remorseful winds In their strange penance. And this wretched orb Knows not the taste of rest; a maniac world, Homeless and sobbing through the deep she goes.

The soul of man is like the rolling world, One half in day, the other dipt in night; The one has music and the flying cloud, The other, silence and the wakeful…

Time has fallen asleep in the afternoon sunshine.

The man who in this world can keep the whiteness of his soul is not likely to lose it in any other.

I longed for a power of vision which might overpass that limit; which might reach the busy world, towns, regions full of life I had heard of but never seen: th…

That strange flower, the sun, Is just what you say. Have it your way. The world is ugly, And the people are sad.

'Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined.