In his essay The Poet and These Times, Hugo von Hofmannsthal said about the poet: “It is as if his eyes had no lids.”
This is the only means by which I judge the quality of a poem, the only constant—if I am made to feel that way about the poet (all other qualifiers seem to be fickle and superfluous). However numerous and creative the patterns, the qualities of the materials, or the opinions of the times, Art will forever be a see-through dress.