To Break The Pentameter, That

To Say That A State Cannot Pursue Its Aims Because There Is No Money, Is Like Saying That An Engineer Cannot Build Roads, Because There Are No Kilometers.

No Verse Is Libre For The Man Who Wants To Do A Good Job.

The Garden En Robe De Parade. - Samain Like A Skein Of Loose Silk Blown Against A Wall She Walks By The Railing Of A Path In Kensington Gardens, And She Is Dying Piece-meal Of A Sort Of Emotional Anaemia. And Round About There Is A Rabble Of The Filthy, Sturdy, Unkillable Infants Of The Very Poor. They Shall Inherit The Earth. In Her Is The End Of Breeding. Her Boredom Is Exquisite And Excessive. She Would Like Some One To Speak To Her, And Is Almost Afraid That I Will Commit That Indiscretion.

Music Begins To Atrophy When It Departs Too Far From The Dance... Poetry Begins To Atrophy When It Gets Too Far From Music.

And The Betrayers Of Language ...... N And The Press Gang And Those Who Had Lied For Hire; The Perverts, The Perverters Of Language, The Perverts, Who Have Set Money-lust Before The Pleasures Of The Senses; Howling, As Of A Hen-yard In A Printing-house, The Clatter Of Presses, The Blowing Of Dry Dust And Stray Paper, Foetor, Sweat, The Stench Of Stale Oranges.