POETRY - Henry Lawson Poems


Poems » henry lawson » poetry

I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond
      all this fiddle.
  Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one
      discovers in
  it after all, a place for the genuine.
      Hands that can grasp, eyes
      that can dilate, hair that can rise
        if it must, these things are important not because a

high-sounding interpretation can be put upon them but because
      they are
  useful. When they become so derivative as to become
  the same thing may be said for all of us, that we
      do not admire what
      we cannot understand: the bat
        holding on upside down or in quest of something to

eat, elephants pushing, a wild horse taking a roll, a tireless
      wolf under
  a tree, the immovable critic twitching his skin like a horse
      that feels a flea, the base-
  ball fan, the statistician--
      nor is it valid
        to discriminate against "business documents and

school-books"; all these phenomena are important. One must make
      a distinction
  however: when dragged into prominence by half poets, the
      result is not poetry,
  nor till the poets among us can be
    "literalists of
      the imagination"--above
        insolence and triviality and can present

for inspection, "imaginary gardens with real toads in them,"
      shall we have
  it. In the meantime, if you demand on the one hand,
  the raw material of poetry in
      all its rawness and
      that which is on the other hand
        genuine, you are interested in poetry.