considerable mental discipline. To others it is an exasperating weariness.
Hence chiefly the fearful prejudice of the average lettered man
against the mere form of verse.


The formation of literary taste cannot be completed until
that prejudice has been conquered. My very difficult task
is to suggest a method of conquering it. I address myself exclusively
to the large class of people who, if they are honest, will declare that,
while they enjoy novels, essays, and history, they cannot "stand" verse.
The case is extremely delicate, like all nervous cases.
It is useless to employ the arts of reasoning, for the matter
has got beyond logic; it is instinctive. Perfectly futile to assure you
that verse will yield a higher percentage of pleasure than prose!
You will reply: "We believe you, but that doesn't help us."
Therefore I shall not argue. I shall venture to prescribe
a curative treatment (doctors do not argue); and I beg you
to follow it exactly, keeping your nerve and your calm.
Loss of self-control might lead to panic, and panic would be fatal.


First: Forget as completely as you can all your present notions
about the nature of verse and poetry. Take a sponge and
wipe the slate of your mind. In particular, do not harass yourself
by thoughts of metre and verse forms. Second: Read William Hazlitt's essay
"On Poetry in General." This essay is the first in the book entitled
*Lectures on the English Poets*. It can be bought in various forms.
I think the cheapest satisfactory edition is in Routledge's
"New Universal Library" (price 1s. net). I might have composed
an essay of my own on the real harmless nature of poetry in general,