Still must the poet as of old, In barren attic bleak and cold, Starve, freeze, and fashion verses to Such things as flowers and song and you; Still as of old his being give In Beauty's name, while she may live, Beauty that may not die as long As ther...
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand: Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends— It gives a lovely light!
