The poet's expression of joy conceals his despair at not having found the reality of joy.

The poet's expression of joy conceals his despair at not having found the reality of joy.

The fellow mixes blood with his colors.

The fellow mixes blood with his colors.

Poetry is the art of substantiating shadows, and of lending existence to nothing.

Poetry is the art of substantiating shadows, and of lending existence to nothing.

Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things

Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things

I mix them with my brains, sir.

I mix them with my brains, sir.

Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary.

Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary.

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I read more

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out.

For rhyme the rudder is of verses,
With which, like ships, they steer their courses.

For rhyme the rudder is of verses,
With which, like ships, they steer their courses.

Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme?
Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread,
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Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme?
Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread,
By winding myrtle round your ruin'd shed?