82 THE SUM IMPRESSION 



complex life around him, he could — if he were 

 physically able — go on for ever painting picture 

 after picture, each a new creation. In the same 

 way a poet could go on writing poems. The 

 poet does not turn out poems like a machine turns 

 out pins, each like the other. He is not tied down 

 to what he writes. He writes out of his own heart 

 what he likes. And he does not and could not turn 

 out two poems exactly the same. Nor does he 

 write according to plan as the bridge-builder works 

 according to the plan of the engineer. He works 

 as he goes. He works by spontaneous creativeness. 

 He is utterly original — a true creator. And even 

 so will our Artist hold that Nature works. 



The letters of Nature's alphabet which the 

 Artist sees in the forest are not in the places they 

 are either through mere chance or according to a 

 definitely prepared plan. The letters form words, 

 the words form lines, and the lines form poems. 

 The Artist reads the words and understands the 

 meaning of the poems, and so understands the 

 character of the Poet— the Poet whose name is 

 Nature. But the Artist knows that the words and 

 lines and poems he sees in the forest are there as 

 spontaneous creations from the mind of Nature as 

 poems arise in his own mind. And he knows that 

 Nature could go on — and must go on — creating 

 these poems, painting these pictures, for ever and 

 ever. 



Nature will, indeed, work to an end as an Artist 

 works to an end. Nature has purposiveness as an 

 Artist has purposiveness. But that end is some- 

 thing which Nature, like the Artist, is always 



