You canโ€™t, if you canโ€™t feel it, if it never Rises from the soul, and sways The heart of every single hearer, With deepest power, in simple ways. Youโ€™ll sit forever, gluing things together, Cooking up a stew from otherโ€™s scraps, Blowing on a miserable fire, Made from your heap of dying ash. Let apes and children praise your art, If their admirationโ€™s to your taste, But youโ€™ll never speak from heart to heart, Unless it rises up from your heartโ€™s space.

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