A Poet! He Hath Put His Heart To School
A poet! He hath put his heart to school, Nor dares to move unpropped upon the staff Which art hath lodged within his handmust laugh By precept only, and shed tears by rule. Thy Art be Nature; the live current quaff, And let the groveller sip his stagnant pool, In fear that else, when Critics grave and cool Have killed him, Scorn should write his epitaph. How does the Meadow-flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free Down to its root, and, in that freedom, bold; And so the grandeur of the Forest-tree Comes not by casting in a formal mould, But from its own divine vitality.
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"A poet! He hath put his heart to school,..."
"A Poet! He Hath Put His Heart To School" is a quintessential example of William Wordsworth's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...