Date: 1814, 1816, 1896

"Thoughts, like Churl's corn, in chamber'd stores entomb'd, / Devour'd by vermin, or, decay, consum'd; / Whose fruits might food, or opulence, afford; / Enrich the Rich, or bless the poor Man's board."

— Woodhouse, James (bap. 1735, d. 1820)

Date: 1814, 1816, 1896

"Could, with one thought, most beauteous castles build, / With tasteful furniture, all, instant, fill'd, / But could not monies coin, or form firm land / To make fond Fancy's mimic turrets stand!"

— Woodhouse, James (bap. 1735, d. 1820)

Date: 1814, 1816, 1896

"Not suffering Souls in fleshly cells to lie, / Like the stall'd ox, or glutton of the stye;"

— Woodhouse, James (bap. 1735, d. 1820)

Date: 1814, 1816, 1896

On might not trace "the mazes of her mystic brain / To mark what monsters such deep cells contain / Contriving constant schemes to furnish food, / For breeding Vultures' ever hungry brood!"

— Woodhouse, James (bap. 1735, d. 1820)

Date: 1814, 1816, 1896

"Solicit Fancy from celestial flights, / To wander o'er the World for frail delights / And crowd Imagination's rooms, immense, / With what relates alone to Time and Sense!"

— Woodhouse, James (bap. 1735, d. 1820)

Date: 1814, 1816, 1896

"That none might Momus' wish'd-for window need, / Instinct's heav'n-taught the secret Soul to read-- / In tone, and turn, of human voice, to note, / How passions operate, and feelings float."

— Woodhouse, James (bap. 1735, d. 1820)

Date: 1815

"Is Man to say--I've reach'd the goal, / I'll now dismiss th'imprison'd soul; / With my own hand I'll ope the way / From its base tenement of clay."

— Combe, William (1742 -1823)

Date: 1815

"With my own hand I'll ope the way / From its base tenement of clay; / Tir'd of its suff'rings here below, / I'll loose it from this scene of woe; / I'll prune its wings and let it fly, / To seek again its native sky."

— Combe, William (1742 -1823)

Date: 1815?

There are "thoughts that dwell /Deep in the lonely bosom's inmost cell / Unnoticed, and unknown, too painful wake, / And, like a tempest, the dark spirit shake, / When, starting from our slumberous apathy, / We gaze upon the scenes of days gone by."

— Bowles, William Lisle (1762-1850)

Date: 1815?

"Strait to her chamber, yester-eve, / Had she retreated from the cave, / And, wildering in a maze of thought, / Fear'd every hour with danger fraught"

— Polwhele, Richard (1760-1838)