There Can Be No Proof

The Musician - If He Be A Good One - Finds His Own Perception Prompted By The Poet's Perception, And He Translates The Expression Of That Perception From The Terms Of Poetry Into The Terms Of Music.

To Know Anything Of A Poet But His Poetry Is, So Far As The Poetry Is Concerned, To Know Something That May Be Entertaining, Even Delightful, But Is Certainly Inessential.

There Can Be No Proof That Blake's Lyric Is Composed Of The Best Words In The Best Order; Only A Conviction, Accepted By Our Knowledge And Judgment, That It Is So.

Great Men Are Rare, Poets Are Rarer, But The Great Man Who Is A Poet, Transfiguring His Greatness, Is The Rarest Of All Events.

In The Corridors Under Tehre Is Nothing But Sleep. And Stiller Than Ever On Orchard Boughs They Keep Tryst With The Moon, And Deep Is The Silence, Deep On Moon-washed Apples Of Wonder.