John Keats on Poets
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βO 'tis a very sin For one so weak to venture his poor verse In such a place as this.β
βA poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence because he has no Identity-he is continually informing and filling some other body.β
βMuch have I travell'd in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne, Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific,βand all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise,β Silent, upon a peak in Darien.β