Date: 1822

"Thrice has a gloomy vision hunted me / As thus from sleep into the troubled day; / It shakes me as the tempest shakes the sea, / Leaving no figure upon memory's glass"

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1825

The "ethereal mind" may be clouded

— Barbauld, Anna Letitia [née Aikin] (1743-1825)

Date: 1825

"Thus, when the fervid Passions cool, / And Judgement, late, begins to rule; / When Reason mounts her throne serene, / And social Friendship gilds the scene; / When man, of ripened powers possest, / Broods o'er the treasures of his breast; / Exults, in conscious worth elate, / Lord of himself--al...

— Barbauld, Anna Letitia [née Aikin] (1743-1825)

Date: 1837

"Make Thou my spirit pure and clear / As are the frosty skies, / Or this first snowdrop of the year / That in my bosom lies."

— Tennyson, Alfred, first Baron Tennyson (1809–1892)

Date: 1838

"Charm'd by her voice, th' harmonious sounds invade / His clouded mind, and for a time persuade:"

— Crabbe, George (1754-1832)

Date: 1850

"Imagination--here the Power so called / Through sad incompetence of human speech, / That awful Power rose from the mind's abyss / Like an unfathered vapour that enwraps, / At once, some lonely traveller"

— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)

Date: 1850

"Finally, whate'er / I saw, or heard, or felt, was but a stream / That flowed into a kindred stream; a gale, / Confederate with the current of the soul, / To speed my voyage."

— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)

Date: 1850

"For though I was most passionately moved / And yielded to all changes of the scene / With an obsequious promptness, yet the storm / Passed not beyond the suburbs of the mind"

— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)

Date: 1850

"But these are things / Of which I speak, only as they were storm / Or sunshine to my individual mind, / No further."

— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)

Date: 1850

"For I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven / Was blowing on my body, felt within / A correspondent breeze, that gently moved / With quickening virtue, but is now become / A tempest, a redundant energy, / Vexing its own creation."

— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)