“My mind lets go a thousand things, Like dates of wars and deaths of kings, And yet recalls the very hour 'Twas noon by yonder village tower, And on the last blue noon in May The wind came briskly up this way, Crisping the brook beside the road; Then,”
“I like to have a thing suggested rather than told in full. When every detail is given, the mind rests satisfied, and the imagination loses the desire to use its own wings.”
