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Poets are sultans, if they had their will:
For every author would his brother kill.
Poets are sultans, if they had their will:
For every author would his brother kill.
God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.
God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.
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.
A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If read more
A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If we do not cherish him, he spreads his wings and flies back into his homeland.
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.
He koude songes make and well endite.
He koude songes make and well endite.
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
I have never yet known a poet who did not think himself
super-excellent.
[Lat., Adhue neminem cognovi poetam, read more
I have never yet known a poet who did not think himself
super-excellent.
[Lat., Adhue neminem cognovi poetam, qui sibi non optimus
videretur.]
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.