Strangers have crossed the sound, but not the sound of the dark oarsmen Or the golden-haired sons of kings, Strangers whose thought is not formed to the cadence of waves, Rhythm of the sickle, oar and milking pail
Of all the arts the living of a life is perhaps the greatest; to live every moment of life with the same imaginative commitment as the poet brings to… - Kathleen Raine
Of all the arts the living of a life is perhaps the greatest; to live every moment of life with the same imaginative commitment as the poet brings to…
- Kathleen Raine
It was not the purpose of poetry to record anything and everything, to merely describe either the outer world or some subjective mood, but to speak f… - Kathleen Raine
It was not the purpose of poetry to record anything and everything, to merely describe either the outer world or some subjective mood, but to speak f…
I make no apology for writing in nature's age-old and unaging language, of whose images we build our paradises, Broceliande and Brindavan, the Forest… - Kathleen Raine
I make no apology for writing in nature's age-old and unaging language, of whose images we build our paradises, Broceliande and Brindavan, the Forest…
Poetry is not an end in itself but in the service of life; of what use are poems, or any other works of art, unless to enable human lives to be lived… - Kathleen Raine
Poetry is not an end in itself but in the service of life; of what use are poems, or any other works of art, unless to enable human lives to be lived…
Intent on one great love, perfect, Requited and for ever, I missed love's everywhere Small presence, thousand-guised. - Kathleen Raine
Intent on one great love, perfect, Requited and for ever, I missed love's everywhere Small presence, thousand-guised.
O never harm the dreaming world, the world of green, the world of leaves, but let its million palms unfold the adoration of the trees It is a lov… - Kathleen Raine
O never harm the dreaming world, the world of green, the world of leaves, but let its million palms unfold the adoration of the trees It is a lov…
... the poem reminds us of what we ourselves know, but did not know we knew; reminds us, above all, of what we are. - Kathleen Raine
... the poem reminds us of what we ourselves know, but did not know we knew; reminds us, above all, of what we are.
Of all created things the source is one, Simple, single as love; remember The cell and seed of life, the sphere That is, of child, white bird, and sm… - Kathleen Raine
Of all created things the source is one, Simple, single as love; remember The cell and seed of life, the sphere That is, of child, white bird, and sm…
The work of the artist is to heal the soul. - Kathleen Raine
The work of the artist is to heal the soul.
Login to join the discussion
Login to join the discussion