Or he can work it out as a metrical and formal exercise, but he will be disappointed in its content. The New Year's prospect fairly chills his daunting breast.

Their free verse was no form at all, yet it made history.

Till now poets were privileged to insert a certain proportion of nonsense - very far in excess of one-half of one per cent - into their otherwise sober documents.

For no art and no religion is possible until we make allowances, until we manage to keep quiet the enfant terrible of logic that plays havoc with the other faculties.

And yet what is Modernism? It is undefined.

It is a miracle of harmony, of the adaptation of the free inner life to the outward necessity of things.