They best can judge a poet's worth,
Who oft themselves have known
The pangs of a poetic read more

They best can judge a poet's worth,
Who oft themselves have known
The pangs of a poetic birth
By labours of their own.

One fine day,
Says Mister Mucklewraith to me, says he.
"So! you're a poet in your house," read more

One fine day,
Says Mister Mucklewraith to me, says he.
"So! you're a poet in your house," and smiled.
"A Poet? God forbid," I cried; and then
It all came out: how Andrew slyly sent
Verse to the paper; how they printed it
In Poet's Corner.

The union of the mathematician with the poet, fervor with measure, passion with correctness, this surely is the ideal

The union of the mathematician with the poet, fervor with measure, passion with correctness, this surely is the ideal

God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.

God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.

As a poet and as a mathematician, he would reason well; as a mere mathematician, he could not have reasoned read more

As a poet and as a mathematician, he would reason well; as a mere mathematician, he could not have reasoned at all, and thus would have been at the mercy of the Prefect

O brave poets, keep back nothing;
Nor mix falsehood with the whole!
Look up Godward! speak the read more

O brave poets, keep back nothing;
Nor mix falsehood with the whole!
Look up Godward! speak the truth in
Worthy song from earnest soul!
Hold, in high poetic duty,
Truest Truth the fairest Beauty.

Happy the poet who with ease can steer
From grave to gay, from lively to severe.
[Lat., read more

Happy the poet who with ease can steer
From grave to gay, from lively to severe.
[Lat., Heureux qui, dans ses vers, sait d'une voix legere
Passer du grave au doux, du plaisant au severe.]

Verse is not written, it is bled; Out of the poet's abstract head. Words drip the poem on the page; read more

Verse is not written, it is bled; Out of the poet's abstract head. Words drip the poem on the page; Out of his grief, delight and rage.

Nations are born in the hearts of poets, they prosper and die in the hands of politicians.

Nations are born in the hearts of poets, they prosper and die in the hands of politicians.