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 the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed read more
A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: "Sing for us soon again;" that is as much as to say, "May new sufferings torment your soul.".
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.
Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme?
Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread,
read more
Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme?
Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread,
By winding myrtle round your ruin'd shed?
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.
In poetry, you must love the words, the ideas and the images and rhythms with all your capacity to love read more
In poetry, you must love the words, the ideas and the images and rhythms with all your capacity to love anything at all.
The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.
The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.
The job of the poet is to render the world--to see it and report it without loss, without perversion. No read more
The job of the poet is to render the world--to see it and report it without loss, without perversion. No poet ever talks about feelings. Only sentimental people do.
It is the job of poetry to clean up our word-clogged reality by creating silences around things.
It is the job of poetry to clean up our word-clogged reality by creating silences around things.
