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: 1816

"Know, lovely virgin, thy deluding art / Hath lodg'd a thousand scorpions in my breast."

— Wolcot, John, pseud. Peter Pindar, (1738-1819)

Date: 1818

Love is a fluttering in the heart or rather a "Young feather'd tyrant"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1818

"Great Muse, thou know'st what prison, / Of flesh and bone, curbs, and confines, and frets / Our spirit's wings."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1818 (1819?)

"His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings / He furleth close."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1818 (1819?)

"He has his Summer, when luxuriously / Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves / To ruminate"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1820

"As though a tongueless nightingale should swell / Her throat in vain, and die, heart -stifled, in her dell"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1820

A soul may be "as ill at peace as the break-covert bloodhounds of such sin"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1820

The spirit may, like a "demon-mole," work thorugh "clayey soil and gravel hard"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1820

"And we breathe, and sicken not, / The atmosphere of human thought: / Be it dim, and dank, and gray, / Like a storm-extinguished day, / Travelled o'er by dying gleams; / Be it bright as all between / Cloudless skies and windless streams, / Silent, liquid, and serene; / As the birds within the win...

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)