Earth's crammed with heaven... But only he who sees, takes off his shoes. - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Of writing many books there is no end; And I who have written much in prose and verse For others' uses, will write now for mine,—
Will write my story for my better self,
As when you paint your portrait for a friend,
Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it
Long after he has ceased to love you, just
To hold together what he was and is.

But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity.

And here fantastic fishes duskly float,
Using the calm for waters, while their fires
Throb out quick rhythms along the shallow air.