"Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.  Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.  Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away. " - Carl Sandburg, Poetry Considered "Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry." - W.B. Yeats "The distinction between historian and poet is not ...

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When Klopstock England defied, Uprose William Blake in his pride; For old Nobodaddy aloft . . . and belch'd and cough'd; Then swore a great oath that made Heaven quake, And call'd aloud to English Blake. Blake was giving his body ease, At Lambeth beneath the poplar trees. From his seat then started he And turn'd him round three times three. The moon at that sight blush'd scarlet red, The stars threw down their cups and fled, And all the devils that were in hell, Answerèd with a ninefold yell. Klopstock felt the intripled ...

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O holy virgin! clad in purest white, Unlock heav'n's golden gates, and issue forth; Awake the dawn that sleeps in heaven; let light Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring The honey'd dew that cometh on waking day. O radiant morning, salute the sun Rous'd like a huntsman to the chase, and with Thy buskin'd feet appear upon our hills. ...

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