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A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If read more
A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If we do not cherish him, he spreads his wings and flies back into his homeland.
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the read more
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts.
Sure there are poets which did never dream
Upon Parnassus, nor did taste the stream
Of Helicon; read more
Sure there are poets which did never dream
Upon Parnassus, nor did taste the stream
Of Helicon; we therefore may suppose
Those made not poets, but the poets those.
I am what libraries and librarians have made me, with little assistance from a professor of Greek and poets.
I am what libraries and librarians have made me, with little assistance from a professor of Greek and poets.
Ah, poet-dreamer, within those walls
What triumphs shall be yours!
For all are happy and rich and read more
Ah, poet-dreamer, within those walls
What triumphs shall be yours!
For all are happy and rich and great
In that City of By-and-by.
Nations are born in the hearts of poets, they prosper and die in the hands of politicians.
Nations are born in the hearts of poets, they prosper and die in the hands of politicians.
Singing and rejoicing,
As aye since time began,
The dying earth's last poet
Shall read more
Singing and rejoicing,
As aye since time began,
The dying earth's last poet
Shall be the earth's last man.
They best can judge a poet's worth,
Who oft themselves have known
The pangs of a poetic read more
They best can judge a poet's worth,
Who oft themselves have known
The pangs of a poetic birth
By labours of their own.
He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realise.
He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realise.
