When I have fears that I may cease to be  Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,  Before high-piled books, in charact'ry,  Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;  When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,  Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,  And feel that I may never live to trace  Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;   And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!  That I shall never look upon thee more,  Never have relish in the faery power  Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore  Of the wide world I stand alone, and think,  Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink
Liberal expressions of Literature, Poetry and Life.