I would have rummaged, ransacked at the word; Those old odd corners of an empty heart; For remnants of dim love the long disused, And dusty crumbling of romance! |
If two lives join, there is oft a scar, / They are one and one, with a shadowy third; / One near one is too far. |
If you get simple beauty and nought else, You get about the best thing God invents |
Ignorance is not innocence but sin |
In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity; On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools - that's vanity |
In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe. |
Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete! |
Irks care the crop-full bird? Frets doubt the maw-crammed beast? |
It is best to be yourself, imperial, plain and true. |
It is the glory and the good of Art, / That Art remains the one way possible / Of speaking truth, to minds like mine at least. |
It was roses, roses, all the way, / With myrtle mixed in my path like mad. |
Just for a handful of silver he left us, / Just for a riband to stick in his coat. |
Just the one prize vouchsafed unworthy me, / Seven years a gardener of the untoward ground. |
Karshish, the picker-up of learning's crumbs,/ The not-incurious in God's handiwork. |
Leave the flesh to the fate it was fit for! the spirit be thine! |