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IF we are to understand the peculiar dilemma of modern poetry—and it would be excess of optimism to claim that poetry is in a healthy or stable condition—we must resolutely set aside those poets who have outlived their prime or ceased to be influences. Davies, De La Mare, Masefield, Hodgson, Housman, Bottomley and the rest are not the poets of to‐day but of yesterday. To consider them in this paper would also mean considering, for example, Sir William Watson, who struts unconvincingly in the borrowed traditional singing‐robes of the Victorians. Nor can we consider the Georgian Group, who twittered very prettily together when:

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