The poem must resist the intelligence almost successfully.
Human nature is like water. It takes the shape of its container.
Most modern reproducers of life, even including the camera, really repudiate it. We gulp down evil, choke at good.
Money is a kind of poetry.
At the sight of blackbirds Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of euphony Would cry out sharply.
Everything is complicated; if that were not so, life and poetry and everything else would be a bore.