Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I And hailed the earth with such a cry As is not heard save from a man Who has been dead, and lives again. About t… - Edna St. Vincent Millay

About the trees my arms I wound;
Like one going mad I hugged the ground;
I raised my quivering arms on high;
I laughed and laughed into the sky.

Still must the poet as of old,
In barren attic bleak and cold,
Starve, freeze, and fashion verses to
Such things as flowers and song and you;

Still as of old his being give
In Beauty's name, while she may live,
Beauty that may not die as long
As there are flowers and you and song.

Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age
The child is grown, and puts away childish things. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.
Nobody that matters, that is.

You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.