"Lo! there he lies, our Patriarch Poet, dead! The solemn angel of eternal peace Has waved a wand of mystery o'er his head, Touched his strong heart, and bade his pulses cease."

"Where go the poet's lines?— Answer, ye evening tapers! Ye auburn locks, ye golden curls, Speak from your folded papers!"

"Singing and rejoicing, As aye since time began, The dying earth's last poet Shall be the earth's last man."

"His virtues formed the magic of his song."

"In his own verse the poet still we find, In his own page his memory lives enshrined, As in their amber sweets the smothered bees,— As the fair cedar, fallen before the breeze, Lies self-embalmed amidst the mouldering trees."

"For ne'er Was flattery lost on Poet's ear; A simple race! they waste their toil For the vain tribute of a smile."

"The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name."

"Villon, our sad bad glad mad brother's name."

"Mediocribus esse poetis Non homines, non di, non concessere columnæ."

"Was ever poet so trusted before!"

"O ye dead Poets, who are living still Immortal in your verse, though life be fled, And ye, O living Poets, who are dead Though ye are living, if neglect can kill, Tell me if in the darkest hours of ill, With drops of anguish falling fast and red From the sharp crown of thorns upon your head, Ye were not glad your errand to fulfill?"

"Thou best-humour'd man with the worst-humour'd muse."

"Three poets in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpass'd; The next, in majesty; in both, the last. The force of nature could no further go; To make a third, she join'd the former two."

"Happy who in his verse can gently steer From grave to light, from pleasant to severe."

"Poets should be law-givers; that is, the boldest lyric inspiration should not chide and insult, but should announce and lead the civil code, and the day's work."

"I can no more believe old Homer blind, Than those who say the sun hath never shined; The age wherein he lived was dark, but he Could not want sight who taught the world to see."

"The poet must be alike polished by an intercourse with the world as with the studies of taste; one to whom labour is negligence, refinement a science, and art a nature."

"All men are poets at heart."

"Greece, sound thy Homer's, Rome thy Virgil's name, But England's Milton equals both in fame."

"Ages elapsed ere Homer's lamp appeared, And ages ere the Mantuan Swan was heard; To carry nature lengths unknown before, To give a Milton birth, asked ages more."

"They best can judge a poet's worth, Who oft themselves have known The pangs of a poetic birth By labours of their own."

"And spare the poet for his subject's sake."

"Sure there are poets which did never dream Upon Parnassus, nor did taste the stream Of Helicon; we therefore may suppose Those made not poets, but the poets those."

"Give me a theme," the little poet cried, "And I will do my part," "'Tis not a theme you need," the world replied; "You need a heart."

"A Poet without Love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility."

"And poets by their sufferings grow,— As if there were no more to do, To make a poet excellent, But only want and discontent."

"Most joyful let the Poet be; It is through him that all men see."

"One fine day, Says Mister Mucklewraith to me, says he, "So! you've a poet in your house," and smiled. "A poet? God forbid," I cried; and then It all came out: how Andrew slyly sent Verse to the paper; how they printed it In Poet's Corner."

"Poets alone are sure of immortality; they are the truest diviners of nature."

"Poets are all who love, — who feel great truths, And tell them."

"He koude songes make and wel endite."

"Heureux qui, dans ses vers, sait d'une voix légère Passer du grave au doux, du plaisant au sévère."

"A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world and stop it from going to sleep."

"Ah, poet-dreamer, within those walls What triumphs shall be yours! For all are happy and rich and great In that City of By-and-by."

"Who all in raptures their own works rehearse, And drawl out measur'd prose, which they call verse."

"Mother and poetess do not rhyme, but they go together rather well."

"A great poet belongs to no country ; his works are public property, and his Memoirs the inheritance of the public."

"For a man to become a poet (witness Petrarch and Dante), he must be in love, or miserable."

"Adhuc neminem cognovi poetam, qui sibi non optimus videretur."

"Wer den Dichter will verstehen Muss in Dichters Lande gehen."

"A true poet does not bother to be poetical. Nor does a nursery gardener scent his roses."

"The worst fate of a poet is to be admired without being understood."

"O brave poets, keep back nothing; Nor mix falsehood with the whole! Look up Godward! speak the truth in Worthy song from earnest soul! Hold, in high poetic duty, Truest Truth the fairest Beauty."

"A poem is a naked person . . . some people say that I am a poet."

"Many questions haven't been answered as yet. Our poets may be wrong; but what can any of us do with his talent but try to develop his vision, so that through frequent failures we may learn better what we have missed in the past."

"In this American moment, it's fundamentally queer to be a poet, to be interested in what can't be packaged or sold in the marketplace, queer to enjoy the fundamentally useless, contemplative pleasure of poetry. Queer means that which is not business as usual, not solid identities founded on firm grounds, but a world in question."

"To have great poets, there must be great audiences, too."

"That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton."

"Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world."

"A poet dares be just so clear and no clearer... He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove it. A poet utterly clear is a trifle glaring"