THE illustration is nothing to you without the application. You lack half wit. You crush all the particles down into close conformity, and then walk back and forth on them. Sparkling chips of rock are crushed down to the level of the parent block. Were not "impersonal judgment in æsthetic matters, a metaphysical impossibility," you might fairly achieve it. As for butterflies, I can hardly conceive of one's attending upon you, but to question the congruence of the complement is vain, if it exists. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LIVING DEAD by RALPH CHAPLIN MY LOVE COULD WALK by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES EPIGRAM: A LAME BEGGAR by JOHN DONNE SPEAKIN' O' CHRISTMAS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE SEA-LIMITS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI COMPANY COMMANDER by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE AUTUMN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD RAMBLE OF THE GODS THROUGH BIRMINGHAM, SELECTION by JAMES BISSET |