We know the particular poem, not what it says that we can restate.
Other psychological theories say a good deal about compensation.
Yevgeny Yevtushenko is a ham actor, not a poet.
The only real evidence that any critic may bring before his gaze is the finished poem.
Dramatic experience is not logical; it may be subdued to the kind of coherence that we indicate when we speak, in criticism, of form.
For intellect is a mansion where waste is without drain.