Composition for me is, externally at least, scarcely distinguishable from catatonia.
The eye is pleased when nature stoops to art.
Outside the open window The morning air is all awash with angels.
Whatever pains disease may bring Are but the tangy seasoning To Loves delicious fare.
Odd that a thing is most itself when likened
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.