Verse is not written, it is bled; Out of the poet's abstract head. Words drip the poem on the page; read more

Verse is not written, it is bled; Out of the poet's abstract head. Words drip the poem on the page; Out of his grief, delight and rage.

A poet not in love is out at sea;
He must have a lay-figure.

A poet not in love is out at sea;
He must have a lay-figure.

Poets alone are sure of immortality; they are the truest diviners
of nature.

Poets alone are sure of immortality; they are the truest diviners
of nature.

"There's nothing great
Nor small," has said a poet of our day,
Whose voice will ring beyond read more

"There's nothing great
Nor small," has said a poet of our day,
Whose voice will ring beyond the curfew of eve
And not be thrown out by the matin's bell.

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.

The poet ranks far below the painter in the representation of visible things, and far below the musician in that read more

The poet ranks far below the painter in the representation of visible things, and far below the musician in that of invisible things.

O brave poets, keep back nothing;
Nor mix falsehood with the whole!
Look up Godward! speak the read more

O brave poets, keep back nothing;
Nor mix falsehood with the whole!
Look up Godward! speak the truth in
Worthy song from earnest soul!
Hold, in high poetic duty,
Truest Truth the fairest Beauty.

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.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains,
Which only poets know.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains,
Which only poets know.