Lord, help my poor soul.

Lord help my poor soul.

Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart-one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of Man

...And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted--nevermore!

Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.

I need scarcely observe that a poem deserves its title only inasmuch as it excites, by elevating the soul. The value of the poem is in the ratio of this elevating excitement.