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For florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.
For florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.
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.
Why then we should drop into poetry.
Why then we should drop into poetry.
Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
Poetry is something more philosophical and more worthy of serious
attention than history.
Poetry is something more philosophical and more worthy of serious
attention than history.
The poet, as everyone knows, must strike his individual note sometime between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. He may read more
The poet, as everyone knows, must strike his individual note sometime between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. He may hold it a long time, or a short time, but it is then that he must strike it or never. School and college have been conducted with the almost express purpose of keeping him busy with something else till the danger of his ever creating anything is past.
It is in self-limitation that a master first shows himself.
It is in self-limitation that a master first shows himself.
Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out... Perfect understanding read more
Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out... Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure.
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.
