This is my book, and in my book my soul
With its two woven threads of joy and pain,
And both were yours before they were begun..
The measure of one's love for good poetry and for good music is the hatred, the violent hatred, one feels for bad poetry and bad music.
Alfred Bruce DouglasIt is heresy to say that we shall ever again produce a poet of Shakespeare's stature, but we have faith that when the spirit of man comes really to need another, he will be there.
Alfred Bruce DouglasWhat shall I say, what word, what cry recall,
What god invoke, what charm, what amulet,
To make a sonnet pay a hopeless debt,
Or heal a bruised soul with a madrigal?
O vanity of words! my cup of gall
O'erflows with this, I have no phrase to set,
And all my agony and bloody sweat
Comes to this issue of no words at all.
This is my book, and in my book my soul
With its two woven threads of joy and pain,
And both were yours before they were begun.
Oh! that this dream would like a mist unroll,
That I might look upon your face again,
And hear your kind voice say: 'This was well done.
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