Odd that a thing is most itself when likened

What is our praise or pride but to imagine excellence and try to make it? What does it say over the door of heaven; but, homo (sapiens) fecit?

Composition for me is, externally at least, scarcely distinguishable from catatonia.

All that we do is touched with ocean, and yet we remain on the shore of what we know

That's the main business of the poem!-to see if you can't make up a language that sets all your selves talking at once-all of them being fair to each other.

Happy in all that ragged, loose collapse of water, the fountain, its effortless descent and flatteries of spray.

It is true that the poet does not directly address his neighbors; but he does address a great congress of persons who dwell at the back of his mind, a congress of all those who have taught him and whom he has admired; they constitute his ideal audience and his better self.