'If Poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree it had better not come at all.' But why leaves? Not
bark? Not
fruit? A metaphorical halfway house between the idea that poetry is integral to the poet, like a skin, and poetry is a detachable offering by the poet. Unless Keats is getting at the notion that poetry sustains the poet; that one's poems perform a sort of photosynthesis for one's own soul?
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