When the brain gets as dry as an empty nut,
When the reason stands on its squarest toes,
When the mind (like a beard) has a "formal cut,"--
There is a place and enough for the pains of prose;
But whenever the May-blood stires and glows,
And the young year draws to the "golden prime,"
And Sir Romeo sticks in his ear a rose,--
Then hey! for the ripple of laughing rhyme!
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Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them.
Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them.
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.
Poetry is plucking at the heartstrings, and making music with them.
Poetry is plucking at the heartstrings, and making music with them.
For florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.
For florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.
Poetry is nothing but healthy speech.
Poetry is nothing but healthy speech.
Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
A poet is a man who manages, in a lifetime of standing out in thunderstorms, to be struck by lightning read more
A poet is a man who manages, in a lifetime of standing out in thunderstorms, to be struck by lightning five or six times.
'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.
A poet can survive everything but a misprint.
A poet can survive everything but a misprint.
