ABSTRACT
It is a long time since I got your book according to programme; a long time since I read it all, many of the pieces again and again: nor was it a difficulty of conscience that has kept me silent; my approval was hearty and spontaneous, able I was and am to give you ‘Euge!’ far beyond what I reckon you desire; and indeed I believe myself to stand among the first ranks of your readers in that particular. But you asked with so much loyalty, ‘What shall I do to be saved, and gain the top of this sore upward course?’ and seemed to have such a faith in the older stager and fellow-climber to give you a word of advice,—I really knew not what to say, and hesitated always.… Accept a few rough human words, then, such as the day gives; and do not consider them as pretending to be more than honest words, rough and ready, from a fellow-pilgrim well-affected to you. It is certain there is an excellent opulence of intellect in these two rhymed volumes: intellect in the big ingot shape and down to the smallest current coin;— I shall look far, I believe, to find such a pair of eyes as I see busy there inspecting human life this long while. The keenest just insight into men and things;—and all that goes along with really good insight: a fresh valiant manful character, equipped with rugged humour, with just love, just contempt, well carried and bestowed;—in fine a most extraordinary power of expression; such I must call it, whether it be ‘expressive’ enough, or not. Rhythm there is too, endless poetic fancy, symbolical help to express; and if not melody always or often (for that would mean finish and perfection), there is what the Germans call Takt,—fine dancing, if to the music only of drums.
