The Public Will Believe Anything, So Long

As For The Usefulness Of Poetry, Its Uses Are Many. It Is The Deification Of Reality. It Should Make Our Days Holy To Us. The Poet Should Speak To All Men, For A Moment, Of That Other Life Of Theirs That They Have Smothered And Forgotten.

The Great Sins And Fires Break Out Of Me Like The Terrible Leaves From The Bough In The Violent Spring. I Am A Walking Fire, I Am All Leaves.

The Light Would Show (if It Could Harden) Eternities Of Kitchen Garden

It Is Hardly Respectable To Be Good Nowadays.

A Great Many People Now Reading And Writing Would Be Better Employed Keeping Rabbits.