When critics are waiting to pounce upon poetic style on exactly the same grounds as if it were prose, the poets tremble.

But we moderns are impatient and destructive.

And a wandering beauty is a blade out of its scabbard.You know how dangerous, gentlemen of threescore?May you know it yet ten more.

When critics are waiting to pounce upon poetic style on exactly the same grounds as if it were prose, the poets tremble.

The arts generally have had to recognize Modernism - how should poetry escape?

And yet what is Modernism? It is undefined.

Too much is demanded by the critic, attempted by the poet.