Great men are rare, poets are rarer, but the great man who is a poet, transfiguring his greatness, is the rarest of all events.

Grant us the wil1 to fashion as we feel, Grant us the strength to labor as we know, Grant us the purpose, ribbed and edged with steel, To strike the blow.

And not a girl goes walking Along the Cotswold lanes But knows men's eyes in April Are quicker than their brains.

Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.

It should here be added that poetry habitually takes the form of verse.

Poetry is the communication through words of certain experiences that can be communicated in no other way.

If it is an imperfect word, no external circumstance can heighten its value as poetry.