Revision Is Its Own Reward.

In A Poem The Words Should Be As Pleasing To The Ear As The Meaning Is To The Mind.

The Prey Of Fear, He, Always Curtailed, Extinguished, Thwarted By The Dusk, Work Partly Done, Says To The Alternating Blaze, "again The Sun! Anew Each Day; And New And New And New, That Comes Into And Steadies My Soul."

Writing Is An Undertaking For The Modest.

Blessed The Geniuses Who Know / That Egomania Is Not A Duty.

O To Be A Dragon, A Symbol Of The Power Of Heaven-of Silk-worm Size Or Immense; At Times Invisible. Felicitous Phenomenon!