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Discovering Poetry
An introduction to the nature of poetry and the poetic experience. The whole of this book is an effort to try and discover in what poetic genius consists, and in what ways we may best rain ourselves to recognize and to enjoy it. But in any such enquiry, we are immediately challenged at the outset by a pertinent and disquieting question. Why write about poetry, when the poets themselves are there to speak? Everything they have to say, they can very well say for do we not ‘murder to dissect’? For there is much truth in what Sir Walter Raleigh said when he set out to lecture about Christina Rossetti. ‘The worst of it is you cannot lecture on really pure poetry any more than you can talk about the ingredients of really pure water―it is adulterated, methylated, sanded poetry that makes the best lectures. The only thing that Christina makes me want to do, is cry, not lecture.’ And it is true that when we criticize poetry, when we analyze form and rhythm and metre and imagery and words, and as much of the whole technical mystery of transforming experiences into language as we can, at the end we are sometimes reminded of the comment of Mutt to Jeff on hearing that water was to two parts hydrogen to one part ‘Good heavens, ain’t there no water in it?’
- GenresPoetryLiterary Criticism
228 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1961
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May 4, 2024
"A knowledge of and an interest in geography, surveying, architecture, history and sociology is not the same thing as a love of travel, and the glamour and glory of foreign lands and cities can be apprehended without the help of any of them. Yet we would sooner have a guide who could deepen and enrich our experience of the unknown by the addition of such knowledge. ANd the same thing is true of travel in 'the realms of gold'" (x).
"The verses and the bare statements have the same meaning; they are different ways of conveying the same sense or thought or idea. That is clear; and it is equally clear that that is all they do have in common. Beyond that, at once we feel that in the poetry we are in a different world from that of the prose statements. It is different in two ways. FIrst, its mode of experiencing the thought or idea or subject or material presented to it, is different; and secondly, the words in which the experience is communicated are different. In those two facts like the whole theory and practice of poetry" (17).
"Words are no longer merely the means of *conveying* facts. They are concerned to *suggest the quality* of those facts. They are no longer *practical*: they are *evocative* (21).
"A poem is a synthesis of memoried impressions, which the average liver of life leaves in their original chaotic state" (26).
"The experience he uses as a starting point may be anything: a story, a mood, a moment, an incident, a character, a comment. It may be high or low, grave or gay, steady or fleeting. But whatever it is, it will begin by stirring within him that ferment of excitement, that mysterious working of the glands or the nerve centers or whatever it is which we call inspiration. The sense of inspiration is incommunicable. THat passion of 'burning with mental bliss' as a modern poet has called it, cannot be transferred, any more than a love poem can communicate the passion of love. The communicable part of the experience, the part with which criticism can concern itself, is that which can be, and is, embodied in words. Poetry is a special use of words" (27).
"Now it is one natural function of the organism to seek experience. From the flatworm to ourselves, organic life possesses curiosity" (42).
"It is the nature of the healthy organism to delight in fine coordination. We all know the sense of satisfaction, of fulfilment, which comes from more than usual order or coherence of any kind. It may be purely intellectual--a lucid scientific exposition, for example. or a complex organization of human material towards practical efficiency, as in a ship's crew, or a big business; or it may be emotional. We all know people, very often people of no education at all, whose human, emotional nature seems to possess perfect control, balance and beauty. And this sens of satisfaction in the presence of successful coordination, is matched by a sense of frustration and disharmony when we meet disorder or muddle, from the discomfort we feel at the blurred presentation of a simple argument, up to the passion of rebellion which can seize us at the warpings and distortions of the human soul" (42).
"The value of a stimulus depends on the quality of its response: and the value of poetry to the reader depends on the quality of that reader" (47).
"Poetry can only be judged by the standard of the personality that is judging it. We cannot escape our own limitations. Each reader gets the poetry he deserves" (48).
"To the lazy mind the perfect soul-mate is Echo" (61).
"the poet strives to incarnate in mere words the living glory of his inward vision" (94).
"The effect is to cut off the men and women on the stage from the practical affairs of our daily lives, and the effect of the sight of poetry is the same. It is to cut off the words on the page from the practical use we make of words in our daily lives, and more often than not this effect is immediately increased because, owing to the necessity for economy of language, the poet usually challenges the reader's attention by his opening words" (95).
"Language with a regular rhythmical time-beat has a peculiar power. It is at the same time soothing and stimulating; sedative and tonic. An enormous amount of poetry induces in the reader or listener what is in reality a state of very light hypnosis: it is literally 'entrancing'" (126).
"One of the great functions of poetry, as I have said before, is to awaken the dead. The poet brings life to the spirit of his reader by quickening his consciousness of language, by making words alive. The conventional vocabulary of the average liver of life slips through the well-worn channels of response without enough friction to provoke any real awareness of it at all" (151).
"But just as the poet's response to experience is not only finer and fuller but different from that of the average liver of life, so must he find a use of language, which is not only finer and fuller, but is also different, to communicate his response: He finds imagery. 'When the sun rises, do you not see a round disk of fire something like a guinea?' said a practical minded friend to Blake. And the poet replied: 'Oh no, I see an immeasurable company of the heavenly host crying Holy Holy Holy is the Lord God Almighty.' It is the translation of this type of vision into language which brings that blending of surprise and satisfaction, that shock to the nerve centers followed by a new co-ordination in them, which is the thrill of poetry" (151-152).
"For words are not merely collections of letters of the alphabet, with a finite meaning and a rigid shape: nor are they mere audible syllables of loveliness or ugliness. They are the storehouses of innumerable traditional and individual associations, which awaken to life at their sight and sound, and which give them their beauty and their power. And it is because of this power in words that the emotional experiences of poetry, although they can never be as acute as those of actual living, are possessed of far greater resonance and reverberation" (163).
"Art never improves, says T. S. Eliot. It is only what we call the spirit of the age, and the personality of the artist, which are the perpetually shifting components in works of art. And indeed in one sense there is no spirit of the age except the spirit of the present age, and no eyes except our own. Through them we see and judge all, and the past is re-adjusted according to the quality of vision possessed by the present: it is altered by the present as much as the present has been shaped by the past" (185).
"The verses and the bare statements have the same meaning; they are different ways of conveying the same sense or thought or idea. That is clear; and it is equally clear that that is all they do have in common. Beyond that, at once we feel that in the poetry we are in a different world from that of the prose statements. It is different in two ways. FIrst, its mode of experiencing the thought or idea or subject or material presented to it, is different; and secondly, the words in which the experience is communicated are different. In those two facts like the whole theory and practice of poetry" (17).
"Words are no longer merely the means of *conveying* facts. They are concerned to *suggest the quality* of those facts. They are no longer *practical*: they are *evocative* (21).
"A poem is a synthesis of memoried impressions, which the average liver of life leaves in their original chaotic state" (26).
"The experience he uses as a starting point may be anything: a story, a mood, a moment, an incident, a character, a comment. It may be high or low, grave or gay, steady or fleeting. But whatever it is, it will begin by stirring within him that ferment of excitement, that mysterious working of the glands or the nerve centers or whatever it is which we call inspiration. The sense of inspiration is incommunicable. THat passion of 'burning with mental bliss' as a modern poet has called it, cannot be transferred, any more than a love poem can communicate the passion of love. The communicable part of the experience, the part with which criticism can concern itself, is that which can be, and is, embodied in words. Poetry is a special use of words" (27).
"Now it is one natural function of the organism to seek experience. From the flatworm to ourselves, organic life possesses curiosity" (42).
"It is the nature of the healthy organism to delight in fine coordination. We all know the sense of satisfaction, of fulfilment, which comes from more than usual order or coherence of any kind. It may be purely intellectual--a lucid scientific exposition, for example. or a complex organization of human material towards practical efficiency, as in a ship's crew, or a big business; or it may be emotional. We all know people, very often people of no education at all, whose human, emotional nature seems to possess perfect control, balance and beauty. And this sens of satisfaction in the presence of successful coordination, is matched by a sense of frustration and disharmony when we meet disorder or muddle, from the discomfort we feel at the blurred presentation of a simple argument, up to the passion of rebellion which can seize us at the warpings and distortions of the human soul" (42).
"The value of a stimulus depends on the quality of its response: and the value of poetry to the reader depends on the quality of that reader" (47).
"Poetry can only be judged by the standard of the personality that is judging it. We cannot escape our own limitations. Each reader gets the poetry he deserves" (48).
"To the lazy mind the perfect soul-mate is Echo" (61).
"the poet strives to incarnate in mere words the living glory of his inward vision" (94).
"The effect is to cut off the men and women on the stage from the practical affairs of our daily lives, and the effect of the sight of poetry is the same. It is to cut off the words on the page from the practical use we make of words in our daily lives, and more often than not this effect is immediately increased because, owing to the necessity for economy of language, the poet usually challenges the reader's attention by his opening words" (95).
"Language with a regular rhythmical time-beat has a peculiar power. It is at the same time soothing and stimulating; sedative and tonic. An enormous amount of poetry induces in the reader or listener what is in reality a state of very light hypnosis: it is literally 'entrancing'" (126).
"One of the great functions of poetry, as I have said before, is to awaken the dead. The poet brings life to the spirit of his reader by quickening his consciousness of language, by making words alive. The conventional vocabulary of the average liver of life slips through the well-worn channels of response without enough friction to provoke any real awareness of it at all" (151).
"But just as the poet's response to experience is not only finer and fuller but different from that of the average liver of life, so must he find a use of language, which is not only finer and fuller, but is also different, to communicate his response: He finds imagery. 'When the sun rises, do you not see a round disk of fire something like a guinea?' said a practical minded friend to Blake. And the poet replied: 'Oh no, I see an immeasurable company of the heavenly host crying Holy Holy Holy is the Lord God Almighty.' It is the translation of this type of vision into language which brings that blending of surprise and satisfaction, that shock to the nerve centers followed by a new co-ordination in them, which is the thrill of poetry" (151-152).
"For words are not merely collections of letters of the alphabet, with a finite meaning and a rigid shape: nor are they mere audible syllables of loveliness or ugliness. They are the storehouses of innumerable traditional and individual associations, which awaken to life at their sight and sound, and which give them their beauty and their power. And it is because of this power in words that the emotional experiences of poetry, although they can never be as acute as those of actual living, are possessed of far greater resonance and reverberation" (163).
"Art never improves, says T. S. Eliot. It is only what we call the spirit of the age, and the personality of the artist, which are the perpetually shifting components in works of art. And indeed in one sense there is no spirit of the age except the spirit of the present age, and no eyes except our own. Through them we see and judge all, and the past is re-adjusted according to the quality of vision possessed by the present: it is altered by the present as much as the present has been shaped by the past" (185).
March 12, 2014
Discovering Poetry offers up a thorough investigation of the nuances of poetry and their appreciation. While very much grounded in early 20th century modern american notions of poetry Drew does a good job of aiming for a timeless and placeless standard, and much of the work holds up. The sections that do feel dated stand on their own as well thought-out representations of literary arguments and rhetoric of the time, and as artifacts in the history of poetry and thought are themselves pretty interesting. The author's perspective and style opens itself to newcomers and aficionados alike, and provides a well-paced easy read full of very illustrative example poems, and rhetorical counter arguments that help to make Drew's points clear and precise, while not taking away from the breath or heft of her project.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews