The portion of Truth that he will have is that which seems to be cut off from the body of Truth, and then he prefers to hold it as a heresy—which is the last cold profanity of Pride:
With the withdrawal of his superimposed beauties of imagery, his obscurity vanishes and his meaning stands clearly forth, freed from the mist of his Art.
As this is the first issue of Thomas MacDonagh Lyrical Poems, it is primarily necessary to tell something of its quality. There is a quiet depth of meaning and a calm splendour of expression throughout the great poems in this book that unquestionably raise them to the region of essential poetry. Tried by any of the touchstones of criticism, clarity, lyrical beauty, perfection of imagery, effortless rapture, sympathy of human feeling, profundity of Vision—everywhere we catch the glint of perfect gold. Witness this passage from The Golden Joy:
