MISS EDITH SITWELL'S POEM.
[To the Editor of the SPECTATOR.] Sirt,—May an old reader of the Spectator make an appeal to you in connexion with the poetry which you publish now and again? And that is that you would be so good as to provide some clue to the meaning of such verses as those by Miss Sitwell in your issue of November 18th. Doubtless, if one possessed the key the mystery could be unlocked. Perhaps the mention 01 Professor Goose-cap is, intended for the key. But then, who of what in the world is he ? As it is the lines are wholly unin• telligible to me. I shall doubtless have already proved myself a hopeless back number in literary taste, and when 1 make my further confession I shall be relegated by the initiated to the outermost berg of Philistia. Dare I make it ? To one not wholly unread in the lyrics of the Greek anthology, Shake- speare, Wordsworth, Keats—not to mention the discredited Victorians—such writing reads as a mere juggling with words, as alembicated as the most " conceited " of the " meta- physical " poets, and with little or no relation to the main currents of human life. We old fogies—for I cannot suppose I am alone in my bewilderment—would like to be told in plain language, suitable to our superannuated wits, what it is that is so much admired in works of this character, and above all what they are all about.—I am, Sir, &c., 2 Bedford Square. W. II. WARD.
[Under " Poets and Poetry " on page 1011 is an article in which some of the points raised by Mr. W. H. Ward are discussed by the Poetry Editors For the convenience of our readers we also reprint Miss Edith Sitwell's poem at the end of that article.—En. Spectator.]
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