It Should Here Be Added That Poetry

If It Is An Imperfect Word, No External Circumstance Can Heighten Its Value As Poetry.

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.

The Musician - If He Be A Good One - Finds His Own Perception Prompted By The Poet's Perception, And He Translates The Expression Of That Perception From The Terms Of Poetry Into The Terms Of Music.

In The Corridors Under Tehre Is Nothing But Sleep. And Stiller Than Ever On Orchard Boughs They Keep Tryst With The Moon, And Deep Is The Silence, Deep On Moon-washed Apples Of Wonder.

To Know Anything Of A Poet But His Poetry Is, So Far As The Poetry Is Concerned, To Know Something That May Be Entertaining, Even Delightful, But Is Certainly Inessential.