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“Many are poets, but without the name; For what is Poesy but to create From overfeeling Good or Ill; and aim At an external life beyond our fate, And be the new Prometheus of new men, Bestowing fire from Heaven, and then, too late, Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain” — George Gordon Byron
Many are poets, but without the name;
For what is Poesy but to create
From overfeeling Good or Ill; and aim
At an external life beyond our fate,
And be the new Prometheus of new men,
Bestowing fire from Heaven, and then, too late,
Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain