THE ONLY WAY IN POETRY.
[To THE EDITOR OF THE " SPECTATOR."]
Sin,—I have decided that English poetry must not return to the blatant lucidity of pre-Georgian days. I do not wish it. You will find enclosed an example of the poet's art in the only form in which I am prepared to sanction it; also notes for the uidance of reviewers.
" BABYLON.
Green clotted bosses hang Down to the blue, Tapered green fingers Poke down, too; Down where the yellow disc Spins like a plate Hard yellow metal Set in blue slate.
On the brown ceiling Stark worms crawl, Colour below them, But what's on the wall?
Scents from the upper clay Trickle down mixed, Nothing else falls, being Brutally fixed."
[Extract from the Spectator of uncertain date :—" The above poem, which marks the transition from the fifth to the sixth phase of Mr. Hughes's mentality, was omitted from his first volume as being too intimate in touch for the uninitiated reader. The poem does not describe the evolution of a pure emotional crisis, as the intelligent reader would inevitably assume were it not for the elueidatory title. On the contrary, the subject- matter mentirely objective. It is merely a terse radio-telegraphic ,analysis of a garden viewed by the poet through his own legs. Even the intelligent reader has heard of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. No one but Mr. Hughes could have written the line 'But what's on the wall?' expressing in his own characteristic way the incontrovertible truth that there is no wall. •J
Previous page
