Doeg, though without knowing how or why,
Made a still a blundering kind of melody;
Spurr'd boldly read more

Doeg, though without knowing how or why,
Made a still a blundering kind of melody;
Spurr'd boldly on, and dash'd through thick and thin,
Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in;
Free from all meaning whether good or bad,
And in one word, heroically mad.

A poet looks at the world the way a man looks at a woman.

A poet looks at the world the way a man looks at a woman.

There's no money in poetry, but then there's no poetry in money, either.

There's no money in poetry, but then there's no poetry in money, either.

I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.

I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.

Poetry is truth dwelling in beauty.

Poetry is truth dwelling in beauty.

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.

Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted.

Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted.

Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.

Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.

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 .