The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.

The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.

Of trees I (Krishna) am the fig.

Of trees I (Krishna) am the fig.

I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.

I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.

morning: that first sapphire dome of glow.

morning: that first sapphire dome of glow.

Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.

Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.

You speak
As one who fed on poetry.

You speak
As one who fed on poetry.

Made poetry a mere mechanic art.

Made poetry a mere mechanic art.

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?

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.