Witches and poets co-embrace like fate,
Reputed base, bare, poor, unfortunate.
In these respects I may myself intrude
Among the poets’ thickest multitude.
Here lies that poet, buried in the night,
Whose purse, men know it, was exceeding light.
Witches and poets co-embrace like fate,
Reputed base, bare, poor, unfortunate.
In these respects I may myself intrude
Among the poets’ thickest multitude.
Here lies that poet, buried in the night,
Whose purse, men know it, was exceeding light.
Quote text
“The light became her grace and dwelt among
Blind eyes and shadows that are formed as men
Lo, how the light doth melt us into song:
The broken sunlight for a healm she beareth
Who hath my heart in jurisdiction.
In wild-wood never fawn nor fallow fareth
So silent light; no gossamer is spun
So delicate as she is, when the sun
Drives the clear emeralds from the bended grasses
Lest they should parch too swiftly, where she passes.”
Ezra Pound | “Ballatetta”