Poets are all who love, who feel great truths, And tell them; and the truth of truths is love

A poet not in love is out at sea; He must have a lay-figure.

Poets are all who love,--who feel great truths, And tell them.

The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love.

The fate of love is that it always seems too little or too much.

I cannot love as I have loved, And yet I know not why; It is the one great woe of life To feel all feeling die.