poet (n.)
- annalist
- author
- authoress
- bard
- bibliographer
- coauthor
- collaborator
- columnist
- compiler
- composer
- copywriter
- critic
- diarist
- dramatist
- elegist
- encyclopedist
- essayist
- fancier
- fantasist
- fantast
- ghost
- ghostwriter
- humorist
- inventor
- jongleur
- laureate
- librettist
- litterateur
- lyricist
- maker
- metrist
- minstrel
- modernist
- muse
- newspaperman
- novelist
- odist
- pamphleteer
- reviewer
- rhymer
- rhymester
- satirist
- scenarist
- scribe
- scriptwriter
- sonneteer
- storyteller
- symbolist
- troubadour
- versifier
- wordsmith
- writer
Most joyful let the Poet be;
It is through him that all men see.
For now the poet cannot die,
Nor leave his music as of old,
But round him ere he scarce be cold
Begins the scandal and the cry.
Call it not vain: they do not err
Who say that when the poet dies
Mute Nature mourns her worshipper,
And celebrates his obsequies.
God is the perfect poet,
Who in his person acts his own creations.
Both potter is jealous of potter and craftsman of craftsman; and poor man has a grudge against poor man, and poet against poet.
For a good poet's made as well as born.
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 a 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 a bush supposed a bear!
A Poet, Naturalist, and Historian,
Who left scarcely any style of writing untouched,
And touched nothing that he did not adorn.
Such were the notes thy once lov'd poet sung,
Till death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue.
This is truth the poet sings,
That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.
A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.
How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they?
How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they?
Vain was the chief's the sage's pride!
They had no poet, and they died.
Was ever poet so trusted before?
Are these the choice dishes the Doctor has sent us?
Is this the great poet whose works so content us?
This Goldsmith's fine feast, who has written fine books?
Heaven sends us good meat, but the Devil sends cooks?
A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
