I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song? Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
There are believers who by God's grace, have climbed the mountains of full assurance and near communion, their place is with the eagle in his eyrie, high aloft; they are like the strong mountaineer, who has trodden the virgin snow, who has breathed the fresh, free air of the Alpine regions, and therefore his sinews are braced, and his limbs are vigorous; these are they who do great exploits, being mighty men, men of renown.
True poetry is born of scrutiny, Scrutiny, the son of meditation, Meditation, the son of lore, Lore, the son of inquiry, Inquiry, the son of investigation, Investigation, the son of knowledge, Knowledge, the son of understanding, Understanding, the son of wisdom, Wisdom, the son of surrender to the Divine Will Thus it is with the poet himself: his art is powerful, protecting, elevating, and his judgement straight and strong