The Poetry Of The Earth

The Grandeur Of The Dooms We Have Imagined For The Mighty Dead.

Ay, On The Shores Of Darkness There Is A Light, And Precipices Show Untrodden Green; There Is A Budding Morrow In Midnight; There Is Triple Sight In Blindness Keen.

Then Felt I Like Some Watcher Of The Skies When A New Planet Swims Into His Ken.

The Creature Has A Purpose, And His Eyes Are Bright With It.

I Am Certain I Have Not A Right Feeling Towards Women -- At This Moment I Am Striving To Be Just To Them, But I Cannot. Is It Because They Fall So Far Beneath My Boyish Imagination? When I Was A Schoolboy I Thought A Fair Woman A Pure Goddess; My Mind Was A Soft Nest In Which Some One Of Them Slept, Though She Knew It Not.