For Poetry is the wisdom of the blood,That scarlet tree within, which has the powerTo make dull words bud forth and burst in flower.
Death in the wood,—In the death-pale lips apart;Death in a whiteness that curdled the blood,Now black to the very heart:The wonder by her was formedWho stands supreme in power;To show that life by the spirit comesShe gave us a soulless flower!elaine goodale eastman
People have the powerTo redeem the work of foolsUpon the meek the graces showerIt's decreed the people rule.Patti Smith
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