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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A poem conveys not a message so much as the provenance of a message, an advent of sense.
A poem conveys not a message so much as the provenance of a message, an advent of sense.
Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them.
Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them.
Poetry is the work of poets, not of peoples or communities; artistic creation can never be anything but the production read more
Poetry is the work of poets, not of peoples or communities; artistic creation can never be anything but the production of an individual mind .
It is in self-limitation that a master first shows himself.
It is in self-limitation that a master first shows himself.
The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.
The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.
For there is no heroic poem in the world but is at bottom a
biography, the life of a read more
For there is no heroic poem in the world but is at bottom a
biography, the life of a man; also, it may be said, there is no
life of a man, faithfully recorded, but is a heroic poem of its
sort, rhymed or unrhymed.
For me, poetry is an evasion of the real job of writing prose.
For me, poetry is an evasion of the real job of writing prose.
As civilization advances, poetry almost necessarily declines.
As civilization advances, poetry almost necessarily declines.
'Twas he that ranged the words at random flung,
Pierced the fair pearls and them together strung.
'Twas he that ranged the words at random flung,
Pierced the fair pearls and them together strung.
