THE BEST POETRY
I shall attempt to show you why the best poetry usually passes unobserved, and how you may train yourselves to recognise it.
Matthew Arnold, our greatest literary critic in the last century, thought that if we were to draw full benefit from poetry "we must accustom ourselves to a high standard and to a strict judgment," and thus learn to recognise "the best in poetry."
No easy task, you think.
Yet the means whereby it may be accomplished are simple.
First: A habit of making the mind up as to which poem among those we read satisfies us best; not to rest there, nor until we know whether the whole poem causes our admiration or whether parts of it are only accepted as introduction or sequel to this or that passage; till, if possible, we discriminate the most perfect line, phrase or rhythm.
Secondly: A determination to become intimate only with verse that stands the test of our most active moods, instead of letting the luckless day, with its relaxed temper, console itself with something that we have perceived to be second-rate. For in proportion as we are loyal to our taste, it will become more difficult to please until at last a really sound judgment is acquired.
Perhaps you will think I speak too confidently, and that good taste in poetry is not within the reach of every honest endeavour.
For a while please imagine that you may be mistaken, and admit that the method of developing taste is possibly both simple and native to mankind.
Difficulty really arises through the mind's preoccupations, which prevent a sufficiency of consideration being applied to æsthetic experience. So manifold and strong
