Which has not come to pass

Forth from the heart and mind

Of some one man, through other men birth after birth,

In thoughts that dare

And in deeds that share

And in a will resolved to find

A finer breath

Born in the deep maternity of death.

... If these be ecstasies of youth,

Yet they are news of which all time has need.

If they be lies, tell them yourselves and heed

How poets’ twice-told lies become the truth!

There was a poet Celia loved who, hearing all around

The multitudinous tread

Of common majesty,

(A hearty immigrant was he!)

Made of the gathering insurgent sound

Another continent of poetry?

His name is writ in his blood, mine and yours.

... “And when he celebrates

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