high. He writes blank verse, octosyllabics, terza-rima, sonnets, and
is particularly fond of long rolling lines that have in them the music
of the sea. His ideas require no enlargement of the orchestra, and he
generally avoids by-paths, or unbeaten tracks, content to go lustily
singing along the highway. Perhaps it shows more courage to compete
with standard poets in standard measures, than to elude dangerous
comparisons by making or adopting a new fashion. Mr. Noyes openly
challenges the masters on their own field and with their own weapons.
Yet he shows nothing of the schoolmasterish contempt for the "new"
poetry so characteristic of Mr. Watson. He actually admires Blake, who
was in spirit a twentieth century poet, and he has written a fine poem
_On the Death of Francis Thompson_, though he has nothing of
Thompson in him except religious faith.

In the time-worn but useful classification of versemakers under the
labels _Vates_ and _Poeta_, Alfred Noyes belongs clearly to
the latter group. He is not without ideas, but he is primarily an
artist, a singer. He is one of the most melodious of modern writers,
with a witchery in words that at its best is irresistible. He has an
extraordinary command of the resources of language and rhythm. Were
this all he possessed, he would be nothing but a graceful musician.
But he has the imagination of the inspired poet, giving him creative
power to reveal anew the majesty of the untamed sea, and the mystery
of the stars. With this clairvoyance--essential in poetry--he has a
hearty, charming, incondescending sympathy with "common" people,
common flowers, common music. One of his most original and most
captivating poems is _The Tramp Transfigured, an Episode in the Life
of a Corn-flower Millionaire_. This contains a character worthy of
Dickens, a faery touch of fantasy, a rippling, singing melody, with
delightful audacities of rime.