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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.