It is difficult to get the news from poetry, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.

No ideas but in things.

But all art is sensual and poetry particularly so. It is directly, that is, of the senses, and since the senses do not exist without an object for their employment all art is necessarily objective. It doesn't declaim or explain, it presents.

The only realism in art is of the imagination.

It is difficult to get the news from poetry, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.

Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire that closes round me this year.

Outside, the north wind, coming and passing, swelling and dying, lifts the frozen sand drives it a-rattle against the lidless windows and we may dear sit stroking the cat stroking the cat and smiling sleepily, prrrr.