You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Ages elapsed ere Homer's lamp appeared,
And ages ere the Mantuan Swan was heard;
To carry nature read more
Ages elapsed ere Homer's lamp appeared,
And ages ere the Mantuan Swan was heard;
To carry nature lengths unknown before,
To give a Milton birth, asked ages more.
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.
Singing and rejoicing,
As aye since time began,
The dying earth's last poet
Shall read more
Singing and rejoicing,
As aye since time began,
The dying earth's last poet
Shall be the earth's last man.
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the read more
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts.
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.
And poets by their sufferings grow,--
As if there were no more to do,
To make a read more
And poets by their sufferings grow,--
As if there were no more to do,
To make a poet excellent,
But only want and discontent.
Most joyful let the Poet be;
It is through him that all men see.
Most joyful let the Poet be;
It is through him that all men see.
God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.
God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.
Ovid's a rake, as half his verses show him,
Anacreon's morals are a still worse sample,
Catullus read more
Ovid's a rake, as half his verses show him,
Anacreon's morals are a still worse sample,
Catullus scarcely has a decent poem,
I don't think Sappho's Ode a good example,
Although Longinus tells us there is no hymn
Where the sublime soars forth on wings more ample;
But Virgil's songs are pure, except that horrid one
Being with "Formosum Pastor Corydon."