HG TREATISE # 12235b ON HALOS

"Poetry IS like unto a halo, in that
b. it encircleth back unto itself much like a riddle of the Sphinx or the destiny of Oedgar Alley (d'd) Puss;
d. thus its magnitude is bothy enrichethed by its consequent danger (like unto that which faceth and embodieth yon Narcissus
q. or other yon self-regarding tragique incestuousities;
a. all of the above;
#12 (center) and what quoth Socrates maketh Poetry to encircleth back unto itself? Why, he says to himself, it be the marriage of sound and sense, belike; that which pleaseth & entranceth in the very sound of the volubles; the mindlesse mutteringes of the streame's ongoingnessiveness, not That for whence it cometh or goeth, as t'would any a Reasonable intelligence. Therefore get thee hence O Babbler Brooke, outside, beyond yon Serial walles of Athens!"
O, Socky.