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| O Solitude! If I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap of murky buildings |
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| O Sorrow, / Why dost borrow / Heart's lightness from the merriment of May? |
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| O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cooled a long age in the deep-delvid earth... |
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| Oh what can ail thee, wretched wight, / Alone and palely loitering; / The sedge is withered from the lake, / And no birds sing. |
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| On a half-reapèd furrow sound asleep, / Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook / Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers. |
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| Once upon a time, the American met the Automobile and fell in love. Unfortunately, this led him into matrimony, and so he did not live happily ever after. |
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| Out went the taper as she hurried in; / Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died. |
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| Parting they seemed to tread upon the air,/ Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart / Only to meet again more close. |
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| Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain / Clings cruelly to us. |
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| Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject. |
| Poetry |
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| Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity -it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance. |
| Poetry |
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| Poetry should... should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance. |
| Poetry |
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| Point me out the way / To any one particular beauteous star. |
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| Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own works. |
| Praise |
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| Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass / Their pleasures in a long immortal dream. |
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| Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, / Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; / Conspiring with him how to load and bless / With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run. |
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