(1812-1889) English Poet

When the fight begins within himself, a man's worth something.


A minute's success pays the failure of years.


Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?


How good is man's life, the mere living! How fit to employ all the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!


Love is energy of life.


No, when the fight begins within himself, A man's worth something.


One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.


Truth never hurts the teller.


What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?


Who hears music, feels his solitude Peopled at once.