He
has chosen a rough, unrhymed, lyrical verse; sometimes
instinct with a fine processional movement; often so rugged
and careless that it can only be described by saying that he
has not taken the trouble to write prose. I believe myself
that it was selected principally because it was easy to
write, although not without recollections of the marching
measures of some of the prose in our English Old Testament.
According to Whitman, on the other hand, "the time has
arrived to essentially break down the barriers of form
between Prose and Poetry . . . for the most cogent purposes
of those great inland states, and for Texas, and California,
and Oregon;" - a statement which is among the happiest
achievements of American humour. He calls his verses
"recitatives," in easily followed allusion to a musical form.
"Easily-written, loose-fingered chords," he cries, "I feel
the thrum of your climax and close." Too often, I fear, he
is the only one who can perceive the rhythm; and in spite of
Mr. Swinburne, a great part of his work considered as verses
is poor bald stuff. Considered, not as verse, but as speech,
a great part of it is full of strange and admirable merits.
The right detail is seized; the right word, bold and
trenchant, is thrust into its place. Whitman has small
regard to literary decencies, and is totally free from
literary timidities.
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