Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.
Obscenity, which is ever blasphemy against the divine beauty in life, is a monster for which the corruption of society forever brings forth new food, which it devours in secret.
It is our will That thus enchains us to permitted ill. We might be otherwise, we might be all We dream of happy, high, majestical. Where is the love, beauty and truth we seek, But in our mind? And if we were not weak, Should we be less in deed than in desire?
To that high Capital, where kingly Death Keeps his pale court in beauty and decay, He came.
A lovely lady, garmented in light From her own beauty.