many lessons; but I never heard that he succeeded.
No one can be taught how to be an artist; but it is
nevertheless quite true that no one can be an artist who
has not learned his medium. You must know your
perspective or your counterpoint -- the grammar of your
art -- if you do not want to be like a high-minded
foreigner labouring his inefficient discourse in broken
English. But once you have learnt the grammar, then
there is no one who can help you but yourself. The
person who wishes to write poetry, however, has al-
ready arrived at that stage. He has no perspective or
counterpoint to learn, because he has been learning
command of his medium ever since he was a baby; if
he has not got hold of it now, no one can teach him.
And for the use that he is to make of his medium -- of
language, that is -- he can only consult his own talent.

What is left, then, if we are not to dogmatise on
the duties of poetry, nor to prescribe for its compo-
sition? More than enough, at any rate, to occupy this
course of lectures. Poetry has usually been regarded
as one of the notable facts in the life of man; and a
general analysis of its nature and methods cannot but
improve our knowledge of ourselves -- of what we are
and what we would like to be. There is a feeling that
it is dangerous to examine too nicely into the way
poetry works. It may be like taking a watch to pieces;
you may not be able to put it together again, or if
you do, it may not go as well as it did before. I
think, on the contrary, that the closer you look into
poetry, the more you have to discover, and to enjoy.

-14-