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Last Testament, issue 18, December 1941

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tions. He was a master of effects- a true spell binder who worked principally through the mind's natural association of certain ideas with certain emotions. Coleridge has lived because of his power to engross the reader in spontaneous imagery from within himself. Coleridge suggests ideas and leaves the reader to work the most according to his own capabilities.

This suggestion is one of the obvious and essential features of all poetry. Our figures of speech are based on the ability of the mind to associate separate ideas- i.e., its susceptibility to suggestion. All poets use suggestion in this sense- all the so-called "great" poets use it in the sense that Coleridge employs it.

To me, it is the most important test of poetry. If something has the power to suggest ideas to me which relate to and amplify what is expressly contained in it, I know that it may be poetry. My own definition goes beyond this point only to provide some very definite limitations as to the degree of this power necessary and the precise object toward which the thoughts are directed. I am not far off, then, if we proceed in the assumption that my reasoning is accurate this far, in defining poetry simply THE POWER OF SUGGESTION. This is what poetry is to me and I wish to repeat that poetry is a personal matter. At any rate, I will consider all poetry in any rag by my standards and none others. Nyaaaah- as Harry would say.

But I am getting well lost so will knock off here and mess around with this again later.

AT NADIR
Can I deny myself the touch of things
I know I have most need of- turn away
From mysteries because no strong light springs
At mere desire to make the darkness day?
Can I cling only to the easy way,
The false simplicity illusion brings,
And never wonder if the future may
Give me, the strength to soar on wider wings?

The lotus grows across the river's plain
And it is pleasant merely to forget-
Too pleasant, and too evil. I will get
New fortitude from sorrow, strength from pain,
That, where high mountain masses mock the Wain,
I may renew my love of living yet.
--L. R. Chauvenet.

We think this is poetry.

We reprint the poem by Wynburn only after overcoming his most strenuous objections. Paul feels that it's too wordy and admits that it is an imitation. He also wanted to work it over a bit. We have only reason for insisting on using it- we think it's poetry. And incidentally, in the next issue we will have one or more even better poems by him.

We would like very much to know where we can contact Earl Singleton (whom we like). If anyone can give us any information on this score we will naturally treat it as strictly confidential and, incidentally, we might even appreciate it if you ask us real nicely.

THANK YOU!!!!!!

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tions. He was a master of effects- a true spell binder who worked principally through the mind's natural association of certain ideas with certain emotions. Coleridge has lived because of his power to engross the reader in spontaneous imagery from within himself. Coleridge suggests ideas and leaves the reader to work the most according to his own capabilities. This suggestion is one of the obvious and essential features of all poetry. Our figures of speech are based on the ability of the mind to associate separate ideas- i.e., its susceptibility to suggestion. All poets use suggestion in this sense- all the so-called "great" poets use it in the sense that Coleridge employs it. To me, it is the most important test of poetry. If something has the power to suggest ideas to me which relate to and amplify what is expressly contained in it, I know that it may be poetry. My own definition goes beyond this point only to provide some very definite limitations as to the degree of this power necessary and the precise object toward which the thoughts are directed. I am not far off, then, if we proceed in the assumption that my reasoning is accurate this far, in defining poetry simply THE POWER OF SUGGESTION. This is what poetry is to me and I wish to repeat that poetry is a personal matter. At any rate, I will consider all poetry in any rag by my standards and none others. Nyaaaah- as Harry would say. But I am getting well lost so will knock off here and mess around with this again later. AT NADIR Can I deny myself the touch of things I know I have most need of- turn away From mysteries because no strong light springs At mere desire to make the darkness day? Can I cling only to the easy way, The false simplicity illusion brings, And never wonder if the future may Give me, the strength to soar on wider wings? The lotus grows across the river's plain And it is pleasant merely to forget- Too pleasant, and too evil. I will get New fortitude from sorrow, strength from pain, That, where high mountain masses mock the Wain, I may renew my love of living yet. --L. R. Chauvenet. We think this is poetry. We reprint the poem by Wynburn only after overcoming his most strenuous objections. Paul feels that it's too wordy and admits that it is an imitation. He also wanted to work it over a bit. We have only reason for insisting on using it- we think it's poetry. And incidentally, in the next issue we will have one or more even better poems by him. We would like very much to know where we can contact Earl Singleton (whom we like). If anyone can give us any information on this score we will naturally treat it as strictly confidential and, incidentally, we might even appreciate it if you ask us real nicely. THANK YOU!!!!!!