Tie up thy fears.
He that forbears To suit and serve his need, Deserves his load." But as I raved, and grew more fierce and wild At every word, Methought I heard one calling "_Child!_" And I replied, "_My Lord!_" Coming now to speak of his art, let me say something first about his use of homeliest imagery for highest thought.

This, I think, is in itself enough to class him with the highest _kind_ of poets.

If my reader will refer to _The Elixir_, he will see an instance in the third stanza, "You may look at the glass, or at the sky:" "You may regard your action only, or that action as the will of God." Again, let him listen to the pathos and simplicity of this one stanza, from a poem he calls _The Flower_.

He has been in trouble; his times have been evil; he has felt a spiritual old age creeping upon him; but he is once more awake.
And now in age[99] I bud again; After so many deaths I live and write; I once more smell the dew and rain, And relish versing.

O my only light, It cannot be That I am he On whom thy tempests fell all night! Again: Some may dream merrily, but when they wake They dress themselves and come to thee.
He has an exquisite feeling of lyrical art.