An image in a poem is language that evokes a vivid, sensory, con-
crete presence. The predilection for image arose around the
time of World War I in opposition to the vagueness, generality,
and abstraction that were the staples of much sentimental, nine-
teenth-century poetry. Twentieth-century poets, after all, were
living in an age that emphasized the visual in terms of motion
pictures and photographs and ads and the concrete in terms of
the new fruits of the machine age. Whereas capitalized words
such as Honor and Truth easily could be distrusted, the stubborn
integrity of the image could not be denied. There was no world
without that sheer, particular, physical presence. Everything (to
paraphrase William Carlos Williams) depended on it.

The image holds a special place in the annals of twentieth century
poetry. From the pre-World War I era up to the millennium, it has been
a touchstone for many different poets. The reasons for this trust are not
hard to find, for the image at once participates in the genius of the vi-
sual, for which the century of boldly colored painting, photography,
movies, and electronic screens has had an enormous appetite, and re-
jects the dead weight of abstraction. The image is the bravery of visual
precision: say what is seen and it speaks for itself. The image embodies
the classic advice of writing teachers: show it, don't talk about it.

The image first was promoted as a cure for what ailed poetry in
pre-World War ILondon, England. The ailments ascribed to poetry
included sentimentality, vagueness, muddleheadedness, and emo-

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