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.

Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme?
Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread,
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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?

Of our conflicts with others we make rhetoric; of our conflicts with ourselves we make poetry.

Of our conflicts with others we make rhetoric; of our conflicts with ourselves we make poetry.

If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call read more

If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for the Creator, there is no poverty.

Poetry is the music of the soul, and, above all, of great and feeling souls.

Poetry is the music of the soul, and, above all, of great and feeling souls.

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.

Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.

Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.

Poetry is all nouns and verbs.

Poetry is all nouns and verbs.

For it is not metres, but a metre-making argument that makes a
poem.

For it is not metres, but a metre-making argument that makes a
poem.