[W]e wish for more in life, rather than for more of it. - Jean Ingelow

And we do want poetry for its beauty […] Yes, only for its beauty; for its moral power over us—its teaching, comforting, and elevating power all depend on its beauty.

And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath
Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.

O sleep, we are beholden to thee, sleep,
Thou bearest angels to us in the night,
Saints out of heaven with palms. Seen by thy light
Sorrow is some old tale that goeth not deep;
Love is a pouting child.