ROSEMARY Beauty and Beauty’s son and rosemary– Venus and Love, her son, to speak plainly– born of the sea supposedly, at Christmas each, in company, braids a garland of festivity. Not always rosemary– since the flight to Egypt, blooming differently. With lancelike leaf, green but silver underneath, its flowers–white originally– turned blue. The herb of memory, imitating the blue robe of Mary, is not too legendary to flower both as symbol and as pungency. Springing from stones beside the sea, the height of Christ when thirty-three– it feeds on dew and to the bee “hath a dumb language”; is in reality a kind of Christmas-tree. Marianne Moore
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  1. ... imaginary gardens with real toads in them ...... if you demand on one hand, the raw material of poetry inall its rawness andthat which is on the other handgenuine, then you are interested in poetry.

  2. Poetry...... a place for the genuine, Hands that can grasp, eyesthat can dilate, hair that can rise

  3. Any writer overwhelmingly honest about pleasing himself is almost sure to please others.

  4. Wolf's wool is the best wool, but it cannot be sheared, because the wolf will not comply. With knowledge as with wolves' surliness, the student studies voluntarily, refusing to be less than individual. He "gives his opinion and then rests upon it"; he renders service...

  5. They fought the enemy, we fight fat living and self-pity. Shine, o shine, unfalsifying sun, on this sick scene.

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