In all the good Greek of Plato I lack my roastbeef and potato. A better man was Aristotle, Pulling steady on the bottle..

Now between the meanings of words and their sounds there is ordinarily no discoverable relation except one of accident; and it is therefore miraculou….

And how can poetry stand up against its new conditions? Its position is perfectly precarious..

For no art and no religion is possible until we make allowances, until we manage to keep quiet the enfant terrible of logic that plays havoc with the….

And yet what is Modernism? It is undefined..

Too much is demanded by the critic, attempted by the poet..

And a wandering beauty is a blade out of its scabbard.You know how dangerous, gentlemen of threescore?May you know it yet ten more..

Captain Carpenter rose up in his prime Put on his pistols and went riding out But had got wellnigh nowhere at that time Till he fell in with ladies i….

It is a miracle of harmony, of the adaptation of the free inner life to the outward necessity of things..

Or he can work it out as a metrical and formal exercise, but he will be disappointed in its content. The New Year's prospect fairly chills his daunti….

Great lovers lie in Hell, the stubborn ones Infatuate of the flesh upon the bones; Stuprate, they rend each other when they kiss, The pieces kiss aga….

He can develop sense and style, in the manner of distinguished modern prose, in which event he may be sure that the result will not fall into any obj….

I am a lady young in beauty waiting Until my truelove comes, and then we kiss..

The arts generally have had to recognize Modernism - how should poetry escape?.

Would you ascend to Heaven and bodiless dwell? Or take your bodies honorless to Hell? In Heaven you have heard no marriage is, No white flesh tinder….

I would not knock old fellows in the dust But there lay Captain Carpenter on his back His weapons were the old heart in his bust And a blade shook be….

Two evils, monstrous either one apart, Possessed me, and were long and loath at going: A cry of Absence, Absence, in the heart, And in the wood the f….

God have mercy on the sinner Who must write with no dinner, No gravy and no grub, No pewter and no pub, No bellyand no bowels, Only consonants and vo….

And if no Lethe flows beneath your casement, And when ten years have not brought full effacement, Philosophy was wrong, and you may meet..

Do not enforce the tired wolf Dragging his infected wound homeward To sit tonight with the warm children Naming the pretty kings of France..

When critics are waiting to pounce upon poetic style on exactly the same grounds as if it were prose, the poets tremble..