If it is allowed, as, for the reasons I have attempted to set out, I think
it rightly may be, that the purely poetic energy is not a variable quality,
that of any given expression of a man's mental activity it can definitely
be said that it is or is not poetry, there remains one question to be
answered,--Can one poem be better than another, if both are truly poems?
Or can one poet, by reason of his poetry, be better than another poet by
reason of his? Is Keats, for example, a better poet than Suckling? Every
good judge of poetry, if that question were put, would be likely to answer
without hesitation--Yes, he is. And yet the answer, although the reason for
it may be found and, in a sense, allowed, does not in any way discredit the
principle that has been defined. With a passage from each of these poets at
his best before us, let us see what we find. This from Keats:
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
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