| The Poetry of Richard Sansom Published by The British Sansom Society | |
 
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| Sargent’s Drawing of Yeats Don’t paint me, I’m too ephemeral for oil. Give me the grace of earthly clay. I’m too young to die in paint and gilded frame. I roam the islands, and fear the death of poets in war. I would not beat the drums or shoot volleys among the eyes of enemies. I want no medals on my heart, the blank coat of my poet’s amulets are enough for fame. My public heart is fame enough, its beauty sufficient for eternity to judge. | |
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