From Paris Review, The Art of Poetry No. 2, Robert Frost:

FROST

Yes. You know the song, the nasty song: “They fight with their feet—” Among other things, what [Ezra] Pound did was show me bohemia.

INTERVIEWER

Was there much bohemia to see at that time?

FROST

More than I had ever seen. I’d never had any. He’d take me to restaurants and things. Showed me jujitsu in a restaurant. Threw me over his head.

INTERVIEWER

Did he do that?

FROST

Wasn’t ready for him at all. I was just as strong as he was. He said, “I’ll show you, I’ll show you. Stand up.” So I stood up, gave him my hand. He grabbed my wrist, tipped over backwards and threw me over his head.

INTERVIEWER

How did you like that?

FROST

Oh, it was all right. Everybody in the restaurant stood up. 

***

INTERVIEWER

I’ve been asking a lot of questions about the relationship of your poetry to other poetry, but of course there are many other non-literary things that have been equally important. You’ve been very much interested in science, for example.

FROST

Yes, you’re influenced by the science of your time, aren’t you? Somebody noticed that all through my book there’s astronomy.

INTERVIEWER

Like “The Literate Farmer and the Planet Venus”?

FROST

Yes, but it’s all through the book, all through the book. Many poems—I can name twenty that have astronomy in them. Somebody noticed that the other day: “Why has nobody ever seen how much you’re interested in astronomy?” That’s a bias, you could say. One of the earliest books I hovered over, hung around, was called Our Place among Infinities, by an astronomer in England named Proctor, noted astronomer. It’s a noted old book. I mention that in one of the poems: I use that expression “our place among the infinities” from that book that I must have read as soon as I read any book, thirteen or fourteen, right in there I began to read. 

***

INTERVIEWER

You once saw a manuscript of Dylan Thomas’s where he’d put all the rhymes down first and then backed into them......

FROST

See, that’s very dreadful. It ought to be that you’re thinking forward, with the feeling of strength that you’re getting them good all the way, carrying out some intention more felt than thought. It begins. And what it is that guides us—what is it? Young people wonder about that, don’t they? But I tell them it’s just the same as when you feel a joke coming. You see somebody coming down the street that you’re accustomed to abuse, and you feel it rising in you, something to say as you pass each other. Coming over him the same way. And where do these thoughts come from? Where does a thought? Something does it to you. It’s him coming toward you that gives you the animus, you know. When they want to know about inspiration, I tell them it’s mostly animus.