Sublime

purloined,

Go then, and pass that dangerous bourn Whence never Book can back return:

Si la plupart des poètes sont jeunes, c’est tout simplement parce que la vie ne les a pas encore rattrapés. Montrez-moi un vieux poète et je vous montrerai, plus souvent que vous croyez, un maître ou un maboul.

it was a little broken and had a sort of cracked ring; at first, indeed, there seemed to be an unhealthy note in it; but there was in it also genuine deep passion, and youthfulness and strength and sweetness, and a sort of charmingly careless, mournful grief.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

THE LEADEN EYED Let not young souls be smothered out before They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride. It is the world’s sore crime its babes grow dull, Its poor are ox-like, limp and leaden eyed. Not that they starve, but starve so dreamlessly, Not that they sow, but they seldom reap. Not that they serve, but have no gods to serve Not that

what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.