The soul of man is larger than the sky,
Deeper than ocean, or the abysmal dark
Of the unfathomed center.Great poet, 'twas thy art
To know thyself, and in thyself to be
Whate'er Love, Hate, Ambition, Destiny,
Or the firm, fatal purpose of the Heart
Can make of Man. Yet thou wert still the same,
Serene of thought, unhurt by thy own flame.
Hartley Coleridge