One Mark Of Good Verse Is Surprise

What The Londoner Sees In His Mind's Eye Is That Cluster Of Towers And Pinnacles Seen From Pentonville Hill And Outlined Against A Foggy Sunset, And The Great Arc Of Barlow's Train Shed Gaping To Devour Incoming Engines, And The Sudden Burst Of Exuberant Gothic Of The Hotel Seen From Gloomy Judd Street.

Too Many People In The Modern World View Poetry As A Luxury, Not A Necessity Like Petrol. But To Me It's The Oil Of Life.

It's Strange That Those We Miss The Most Are Those We Take For Granted.

Oh! Full Surrey Twilight! Importunate Band! Oh! Strongly Adorable Tennis-girl's Hand!

Hymn Tunes Are The Nearest We've Got To English Folk Music.