Others

I think that I shall never see

In free society art is not a weapon … Artists are not engineers of the soul.

Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.

‘Load every rift’ of your subject with ore.

Call the world if you please ‘The vale of soul-making’.

Fine writing is next to fine doing the top thing in the world.

Fine writing is next to fine doing the top thing in the world.

The Wordsworthian or egotistical sublime.

If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree it had better not come at all.

If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree it had better not come at all.

I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart’s affections and the truth of imagination—what the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth—whether it existed before or not.

I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart’s affections and the truth of imagination—what the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth—whether it existed before or not.

When I have fears that I may cease to be

Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards,

Much have I travelled in the realms of gold,

Perhaps the self-same song that found a path

She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;

‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,’—that is all

‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,’—that is all

For ever warm and still to be enjoyed,

Souls of poets dead and gone,

Thou still unravished bride of quietness,

Thou still unravished bride of quietness,

Do not all charms fly