Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth learning in that narrow diary of my mind

Not that it was beautiful, but that I found some order there.

Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself, Counting this row and that row of moccasins Waiting on the silent shelf.

The beautiful feeling after writing a poem is on the whole better even than after sex, and that's saying a lot.