Sketch-blog of an alien-cat-sorcerer.

EAT NO ONIONS NOR GARLIC, FOR WE ARE TO UTTER SWEET BREATH.

THE LUNATIC, THE LOVER, AND THE POET,

ARE OF IMAGINATION ALL COMPACT:

ONE SEES MORE DEVILS THAN VAST HELL CAN HOLD,

THAT IS, THE MADMAN; THE LOVER, ALL AS FRANTIC,

SEES HELEN’S BEAUTY IN THE BROW OF EGYPT:

THE POET’S EYE, IN A FINE FRENZY ROLLING,

DOTH GLANCE FROM HEAVEN TO EARTH, FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN;

AND, AS IMAGINATION BODIES FORTH

THE FORMS OF THINGS UNKNOWN, THE POET’S PEN

TURNS THEM TO SHAPES, AND GIVES TO AIRY NOTHING

A LOCAL HABITATION AND A NAME.

SUCH TRICKS HATH STRONG IMAGINATION,

THAT, IF IT WOULD BUT APPREHEND SOME JOY,

IT COMPREHENDS SOME BRINGER OF THAT JOY;

OR IN THE NIGHT, IMAGINING SOME FEAR,

HOW EASY IS THE BUSH SUPPOS’D A BEAR!

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