If we can't be cordial to these creatures' fleece, I think that we deserve to freeze.
... imaginary gardens with real toads in them ... ... if you demand on one hand, the raw material of poetry in all its rawness and that which is on the other hand genuine, then you are interested in poetry.
Poetry, that is to say the poetic, is a primal necessity.
Only imagination that towers can reproduce evanescence and render rigidity flexible.
I am hard to disgust, but a pretentious poet can do it
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."