… if thoughts must needs be, arising spontaneously as they do in this restless mind of ours, what better thoughts than those inspired in the poet’s soul, a poet who, as a true lover, is ‘of imaginaton all compact’?
Imagination – here the Power so-called
Through the incompetence of human speech,
That awful Power rose from the mind’s abyss
Like an unfathered vapour that enwraps,
At once, some lonely traveller. I was lost;
Halted without an effort to break through….
Is not unlimited, formless imagination akin to unbounded space?