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Excerpt from Ardours and Endurances: Also a Faun's Holiday Poems and Phantasies
English poetry is not a rhythm of sound, but a rhythm of ideas, and the ¿ow of attention stresses varying qualities of words and cadence) which determines its beauty is insepar ably connected with the thought; for each of them is a judgment of identity, or a judgment of relation, or an expression of relation, and not a thing of mere empty sound. He who would think of it as a pleasing arrangement of vocal sounds has missed all chance of ever understand ing its meaning. There awaits him only the barren generalities of a foreign prosody, tedious, pedantic, fruitless. And he will ¿ounder cease lessly amid the scattered timbers of its iambuses, spondees, dactyls, tribrachs, never reaching the firm ground of truth.
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