Imperfection
If no poor word
Stepped boldly from a sound,
For sake of sense
That while a critic frowned,
No blush could be,
The rose grow dull at times,
And poesy
Resent her perfect rhymes.
Let go the lure —
The striving to unmake;
Behold the truth
Whenever heart may ache —
There is a glory
In a great mistake.
From Swear by the Night and Other Poems, by Nathalia Crane
New York City: Random House, 1936
Available on the Internet Archive: Link
This is one in a series of neglected poems taken from the Internet Archive.