“Poetry is not an end in itself but in the service of life; of what use are poems, or any other works of art, unless to enable human lives to be lived with insight of a deeper kind, with more sensitive feelings, more intense sense of the beautiful, with deeper understanding?” HumansKindArtEndsUseFeelingsBeautifulUnderstandingDeeperInsightIntenseHuman LifeSensitivePoetry IsWorks Of ArtDeeper Understanding Author:Kathleen Raine
“O never harm the dreaming world, the world of green, the world of leaves, but let its million palms unfold the adoration of the trees It is a love in darkness wrought obedient to the unseen sun, longer than memory, a thought deeper than the graves of time. The turning spindles of the cells weave a slow forest over space, the dance of love, creation, out of time moves not a leaf, and out of summer, not a shade.” WorldDreamMovingMemoriesSpaceMillionsDarknessSunTreeCreationSummerGreenDeeperHarmGravesForestsCellsShadeUnseenLeafsPalmsAdorationObedient Book:Selected poems Source: Selected poems
