To be loved is all I need, And whom I love, I love indeed. - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Forth from his dark and lonely hiding place (Portentous-sight!) the owlet Atheism, Sailing an obscene wings athwart the noon, Drops his blue-fringèd lids, and holds them close, And hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven, Cries out, "Where is it?"

Day after day, day after day,
we stuck nor breath nor motion
As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean
Water, water everywhere and
all the boards did shrink
Water, water everywhere nor any drop to drink.

Our quaint metaphysical opinions, in an hour of anguish, are like playthings by the bedside of a child deadly sick.