Poetry.
THE POET’S SECRET. “ There’s a secret: can you trust me ? Do not ask mt what it is ! P-rhaps some day you too will know it, If you live to he a poet,— All its agony and bliss. Poatry is not a trifle Lightly thought and lightly made ; Not a fan- and scentless flower, Gaily cultured for an hour, Then as gaily left to fade. ’Tis the essence of existence. Rarely rising to the light; And the songs that echo longest, Deepest, fullest, truest, strongest, H ith your life-blood you will write. Will you seek it ? Will you brave it ? ’Tis a strange and solemn thing ; Learning long before your teaching, Listening long before your preaching, Suffering before you sing.”
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/PBS18821028.2.26.2
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Poverty Bay Standard, Volume X, Issue 1187, 28 October 1882, Page 7 (Supplement)
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120Poetry. Poverty Bay Standard, Volume X, Issue 1187, 28 October 1882, Page 7 (Supplement)
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