This was just like the view from the mast-head: it
made me feel grand. But when I came down, I had not replaced one
prejudice with another. I did not despise the creatures I came among;
for they were then of the same size as myself. I pulled off my cap to
them, and was affable; only it did give me a queer thought--not a
merry one--when I heard that the official they had made that day, on
going home to his house, out of the grandeur and the din, was heard to
commune with himself, saying: 'And me but a mortal man after all!'
Poetry? No, sirs, I have learned no poetry. I had poetry enough of my
own without learning it, and so has everybody else. I once knew a
fellow who wrote very good poetry; but few of us understood it. That
man lost his labour. It is nature that _makes_ poetry; the poet has
merely found out the art of stirring it in the hearts of men, where it
lies ready-made, like the perfume of a flower. A poet who is not
understood only makes a noise; and he is the greatest poet who makes
the greatest number of human hearts to leap and tingle.
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