A drainless shower Of light is poesy; ’tis the supreme of power; ’Tis might half slumb’ring on its own right arm. - John Keats

In drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy tree,
Thy branches ne'er remember
Their green felicity.

I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion – I have shudder’d at it – I shudder no more – I could be martyr’d for my Religion – Love is my religion – I could die for that – I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet.

I still don't know how to work out a poem.

A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving into a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake, to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out, it is an experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept the mystery.