The illustration
is nothing to you without the application.
You lack half wit. You crush all the particles down
into close conformity, and then walk back and forth on them.
Sparkling chips of rock
are crushed down to the level of the parent block.
Were not ‘impersonal judment in aesthetic
matters, a metaphysical impossibility,’ you
might fairly achieve
it. As for butterflies, I can hardly conceive
of one’s attending upon you, but to question
the congruence of the complement is vain, if it exists.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- A Song : On The Green Margin by William Cowper
- Let The Weary World Go Round poem – Alfred Austin
- Xai Kou0
- “The Girt Woak Tree That’s In the Dell” by William Barnes
- The Old Men Admiring Themselves In The Water by William Butler Yeats
- Epitaph on Wm. Graham, Esq., of Mossknowe by Robert Burns
- A Dialogue Between Thyrsis And Dorinda poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- Эмиль Верхарн – Воскресное утро
- silence.html
- The Dream by W H Auden
- When I Married Halld R Laxness
- Sonnet 91: Some glory in their birth, some in their skill by William Shakespeare
- The High Road In Winter poem – Alexander Pushkin
- English Poetry. Ella Wheeler Wilcox. The Blasphemy of Guns. Элла Уилкокс.
- On His Deceased Wife poem – John Milton poems
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
