Reviews
bivouac, Edmond Rostand of elegant idiom à double entente, Paul Fort, the optimistic Prince of Poets, and the Comtesse de Noailles each of divergent mental habits from his brother poets, are for once bound together in the accustomed yellow covers of French literature. Schools are forgotten, nationalism has for the moment succeeded symbolism, and the patriot supplanted the paroxyste.
Although Les Poètes de la Guerre is not of uniform literary excellence, it waves its prosodic flag with such ardor for France that it is a vivid illustration of an English poet's definition of poetry as "the blossom of human passions, emotions, language." The book is important not as an anthology of great poetry but as an anthology of great emotions.
K. M. B.
CORRESPONDENCE
I
Extract from a letter:
Poetry must be as well written as prose. Its language must be a fine language, departing in no way from speech save by a heightened intensity (i. e., simplicity). There must he no book words, no periphrases, no inversions. It must he as simple as De Maupassant's best prose, and as hard as Stendhal's.
There must be no interjections. No words flying off to nothing. Granted one can't get perfection every shot, this must be one's INTENTION.
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