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However it might well be that Kingsley did not make 
many corrections in a poem once it was written. He was 
just the out-of-door person who would turn his words over 
and over in his mind as he walked or fished, till at last he 
would be able to write them out without blotting one. And 
there is a bit of evidence for his being able to create, and 
apparently complete, on the impulse of the moment. ‘‘ The 
Heroes’? had been dedicated to his three elder children. 
One morning Mrs. Kingsley said, ‘‘ Rose, Maurice, and 
Mary have their book and baby must have his.’’ He went 
at once into his study, locked the door, and in half an hour 
returned with the first chapter of ‘‘ The Water Babies.” 
An impulse given no doubt meant more to his eager soul 
than it does to most men. And whatever may be the secret 
of their composition and completion there is not a single 
poem in the collection but bears plainly the sign of special 
impulse, of inspiration. In an Easter song he wrote for 
Iéverslev he has these lines, 
Use the craft by God implanted ; 
Use the reason not your own. 
That reason not his own was the important thing in his 
poetry. That is why he did not write more, and that is 
why all he did write is poetry, not mere literature. As 
someone said of Beethoven, so it might be said of Kingsley 
the poet: ‘‘ Doesn’t he make you attend ?”’ 
Let us end by reading two poems, each of which 
illustrates almost everything we have been noticing in him ; 
his interfusing human life with nature, his pity, his 
music, his natural, inevitable utterance. 
AIRLY BEACON. 
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ; 
Oh the pleasant sight to see 
Shires and towns from Airly Beacon, 
While my love climbed up to me! 
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ; 
Oh the happy hours we lay 
Deep in fern on Airly Beacon, 
Courting through the summer’s day ! 
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ; 
Oh the weary haunt for me, 
All alone on Airly Beacon, 
With his baby on my knee! 
