1918] on Poetry and ModerMi Life 319 



be what is termed loose and irregular ? In vital correspondence 

 between the inner and the outer, may not such form be really stricter 

 and cleaner ? A set metrical shape tempts to fill up with superfluous 

 matter spaces that should Ije left empty. At any rate let us try to 

 get rid of prejudice in this matter. "When v. o meet with a modern 

 experiment that discards rhyme and metre, let us not condemn it 

 forthwith on that account, l)ut read it aloud and ask oui-Selves 

 whether it honestly pleases or not. Few, perhaps, of these poems 

 will satisfy us ; but I do not think it is merely because of the lack 

 of rhyme and metre. Recall Hamlet's outburst : " What a piece of 

 work is a man ! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty ! . . . 

 In action how like an angel ! In apprehension bo^Y like a god ! The 

 beauty of the world, the paragon of animals ! And yet, to me, what 

 is this quintessence of dust ? " 



There is no metre there, Ijut there are rhythms of magical beauty ; 

 and if poets could always write on that level we might well be tempted 

 to think metre, except in pure song, an outworn and inferior mode. 

 Unfortunately, to write poetry without metre exacts a higher dis- 

 cipline, a stronger inspiration, and a severer sense of form than to 

 write in metre. Only those who have mastered all the secrets of 

 metre are really competent to discard it. But naturally this free 

 verse, whether modelled on Whitman or on French examples, attracts 

 by its apparent ease ; and we find it most often used for little pieces 

 of picturesque impression, rapid sketches such as an artist jots in his 

 note-book, where the emotional impulse is not strong or profound, 

 and the result is something accidental, slight and ragged. There is 

 no resistance in the medium, and the absolute freedom of the writer 

 tempts even more to laziness than the prop and support of a set 

 metre. The test of this kind of verse is whether or no we feel that 

 it could not have found another form. And I think this is true of 

 certain poems by our soldier-poets, such as Mr. Robert Nichols and 

 Mr. Frederic Manning — intense impressions of the atmosphere of 

 battle. But I do not believe that, poets being what they are, there is 

 a great future for this type of verse. On the other hand, I believe 

 that there is a rich country to be explored in the field of rhythm. 

 Certain traditional rhythms associated with noble verse are, for the 

 time at least, exhausted. In this exploration, and in the winning 

 over to verse of the infinitely various rhythms of speech, Mr. Bridges 

 has been a leader of stimulating example. His " London Snow," his 

 " Nightingales," and many of his more recent poems, show what quite 

 new rhythmical effects English verse is still capable of. There you 

 have the freedom of vers libre^ but within that freedom an inner 

 principle controlling and vitalizing the form. I am sorry I have no 

 space to give illustrations, but this subject alone might well take all 

 my time. 



Just now poetry finds delight in a loosening and expansion of 

 traditional forms, in a variety of experiments. Later, no doubt, it 



