R
o
b
e
r
t
B
r
o
w
n
i
n
g
-
God
is
the
perfect
poet
,
who
in
,
his
person
acts
his
own
creations
.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dream ing dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
-
E
d
g
a
r
A
l
l
a
n
P
o
e
R
o
b
e
r
t
F
r
o
s
t
-
Some
say
the
world
will
end
in
fire
,
Some
say
in
ice
.
From
what
I've
tasted
of
desire
I
hold
with
those
who
favor
fire
.
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set … -
L
o
r
d
B
y
r
o
n
E
m
i
l
y
D
i
c
k
i
n
s
o
n
-
Hope
is
the
thing
with
feathers
That
perches
in
the
soul
,
And
sings
the
tunes
without
the
words
,
And
never
stops
at
all
.
E
m
i
l
y
D
i
c
k
i
n
s
o
n
-
We
meet
no
stranger
,
but
ourself
.
A
little
Madness
in
the
Spring
Is
wholesome
even
for
the
King
.
-
E
m
i
l
y
D
i
c
k
i
n
s
o
n
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