ABSTRACT
Mr. Ezra Pound would, no doubt, scorn to be thought a poet who polishes his crystals; but it does seem to us that in his Exultations he is beginning to allow some outward form to his verses. It was indeed, remarkable that such a passionate lover of Dante, Villon, and the poets of Provence, should have been content with a savage and often ludicrous crudity of expression. He seemed to trust entirely to the formative powers inherent in his ideas; but these ideas were neither very potent nor very interesting as poetic substance. In these Exultations of his he is less derivative in matter, his thoughts are often his own, and they are more intense, and, though not free from absurdity, the book contains much that is externally, as well as internally, captivating, as thus: Pale hair that the moon has shaken Down over the dark breast of the sea, O magic her beauty has shaken About the heart of me.
