This Be My Pilgrimage And Goal Daily

So It Is In Poetry. All We Ask Is That The Mood Recorded Shall Impress Us As Having Been Of The Kind That Exhausts The Imaginative Capacity; If It Fails To Do This The Failure Will Announce Itself Either In Prose Or In Insignificant Verse.

A Lyric, It Is True, Is The Expression Of Personal Emotion, But Then So Is All Poetry, And To Suppose That There Are Several Kinds Of Poetry, Differing From Each Other In Essence, Is To Be Deceived By Wholly Artificial Divisions Which Have No Real Being.

But In The Finished Art Of The Song The Use Of Words Has No Connection With The Use Of Words In Poetry.

There Can Be No Proof That Blake's Lyric Is Composed Of The Best Words In The Best Order; Only A Conviction, Accepted By Our Knowledge And Judgment, That It Is So.

Grant Us The Wil1 To Fashion As We Feel, Grant Us The Strength To Labor As We Know, Grant Us The Purpose, Ribbed And Edged With Steel, To Strike The Blow.