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A poet dares be just so clear and no clearer... He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove read more
A poet dares be just so clear and no clearer... He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove it. A poet utterly clear is a trifle glaring.
'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.
In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column:
In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.
In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column:
In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.
Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.
Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.
Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.
Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.
Poetry is truth dwelling in beauty.
Poetry is truth dwelling in beauty.
Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.
Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.
The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.
The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.
