When the brain gets as dry as an empty nut,
When the reason stands on its squarest toes,
When the mind (like a beard) has a "formal cut,"--
There is a place and enough for the pains of prose;
But whenever the May-blood stires and glows,
And the young year draws to the "golden prime,"
And Sir Romeo sticks in his ear a rose,--
Then hey! for the ripple of laughing rhyme!
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The finest poetry was first experience.
The finest poetry was first experience.
Poetry is truth dwelling in beauty.
Poetry is truth dwelling in beauty.
What is a Sonnet? 'Tis the pearly shell
That murmurs of the far-off, murmuring sea;
A precious read more
What is a Sonnet? 'Tis the pearly shell
That murmurs of the far-off, murmuring sea;
A precious jewel carved most curiously;
It is a little picture painted well.
What is a Sonnet? 'Tis the tear that fell
From a great poet's hidden ecstasy;
A two-edged sword, a star, a song--ah me!
Sometimes a heavy tolling funeral bell.
Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.
Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.
Poetry is a way of taking life by the throat.
Poetry is a way of taking life by the throat.
All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.
All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.
The true poem is the poet's mind.
The true poem is the poet's mind.
Poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth.
Poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth.
Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
